


if it isn't the real thing

by chiarascura



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Blind Date, Drinking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Drama, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Parent Death, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing a Bed, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiarascura/pseuds/chiarascura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver needed a date for his sister's wedding, to get his mother off his back and piss off his brother. Felix wasn't what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. thursday

**Author's Note:**

> other pairings: bethany/sebastian, garrett hawke/fenris, isabela/merrill

Carver’s belly twisted in his stomach as he checked his watch. He knew this was a terrible idea, had tried to twist his way out of it from the start. He cursed Cullen for _helping_ him, and Dorian for enabling, and Bethany for her good bloody heart, and—  
  
He looked up at the departure board and double-checked the train number, before he stepped off the platform into the train to find his seat. He tried to think calming thoughts: waves on the beach, happy mabari puppies, cups of the shitty tea Bethany liked so much, not to stress out about his baby sister’s wedding and the deception he’d manufactured to go with it.  
  
He wondered what this “date” would look like. Cullen only told him the man was a friend of Dorian’s, someone who was also single and happy to deceive Carver’s family for a free meal and an open bar, so Carver’s brain supplied all of the worst case scenarios. Maybe he was a grifter, taking advantage of lonely single guys going to weddings; maybe he was like the evil Tevinters in the soap operas, ready to wreak havoc on a Fereldan wedding just to say he could; maybe he and Dorian were playing an elaborate prank on Carver, since he knew Dorian wasn’t very fond of him (as he usually got Cullen all drunk and riled up when they went out for wing night at the tavern, leaving the man handsy and giggly on Dorian’s doorstep at the end of the night), so this was going to end in embarrassing pictures and blackmail; maybe—  
  
By the time someone sat across from him, Carver had worked himself up so much that his brain stuttered to a halt. The stranger was absolutely gorgeous. Dark deep eyes glittered behind circular glasses, his long, rounded nose and high cheekbones could have come from a model on a magazine cover, his golden brown skin was smooth and clear, his mouth quirked up in a friendly smile revealing a row of straight white teeth. His hair was short and dark, matching the stubble covering his cheeks and chin, and Carver couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like on his own skin.  
  
The man held out his hand for Carver to shake. “Hi, Carver? I’m Felix, Dorian’s friend.”  
  
Carver stared, open-mouthed, for a few moments too long. Felix’s smile slipped and concern appeared in his eyes, so Carver scrambled to grab his hand and pumped it with too much enthusiasm. “Felix, hi. Sorry, I’m, uh, Carver, obviously since you already said that. It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled to stop any inane rambling, and hoped he didn’t look too crazed.  
  
Felix sat back in his seat with an open expression and studied Carver for a moment. Carver took the opportunity to do the same, focusing on all the details he missed when his brain overloaded with _oh shit he’s hot_. Felix’s sharp burgundy suit with the gold cufflinks and his probably-real-leather dress shoes screamed “high fashion” and “expensive as hell,” and Carver felt shabby in comparison with his plain black slacks, white button down, and definitely-not-real-leather sneakers.  
  
The announcer over the PA system said something unintelligible, and the train slowly came to life beneath them. As they rolled out of the station, Carver looked out of the window to get his thoughts back together, trying to be coherent enough to hold a conversation without babbling or, worse, launching himself at the man in front of him.  
  
He cleared his throat. “So, Felix. Thanks a lot for agreeing to help me like this. You’re saving my life, here.”  
  
Felix shook his head demurely. “It’s nothing, truly. I’ve been looking forward to going to Lake Calenhad for some time now. I’m happy to help fool your family like this.” His little smirk sent a pang through Carver, and maybe having a secret for himself wouldn’t be so bad if Felix was his partner in crime.  
  
Carver guffawed and clapped a hand over his mouth at the ugly sound. Felix’s eyes twinkled and Carver felt a swoop in his belly. “Well, it’s mostly to get back at my brother. He’s been such a bloody arse about me being single lately, and I couldn’t face him, his boyfriend, and my mother alone at this thing.”  
  
Felix nodded sagely. “I can understand the family pressure. My own parents are hounding me to get married but,” he trailed off, and his gaze drifted to the window for a moment before returning. “You know how it is. Parents.”  
  
Carver nodded. “My mum is lovely, really she is, but when she gets on the _settling down_ kick…” Carver sighed solemnly and Felix giggled, amusement appearing in his eyes. Carver felt his whole body warm at the sound, and idly wondered how he could make Felix laugh again. “I had hoped that Bethy getting married would get her off my case for a while, but no. It’s made her work that much harder.”  
  
“So, Bethy, that’s your sister then?”  
  
“Yeah, Bethany, she’s my twin sister, actually. She’s getting married to Sebastian on Saturday.” Carver ticked off people on his fingers as he thought about each family member that Felix should know about. “My mum is Leandra, who will probably cry at the wedding, and the rehearsal dinner, and the reception, and basically any opportunity to gush over _‘my babies.’_ Garrett, older brother, arsehole of the century. He’s dating Fenris, they’ve been together for years but haven’t tied the knot yet, and somehow whenever mum asks about it, Garrett always deflects to me being single.” He scowled at the thought of their last conversation, when Garrett had done exactly that and Carver blurted out that he was bringing a plus-one to the wedding. His mother looked like it was her birthday and Wintersend and Satinalia all rolled into one, which was terrifying, and Garrett looked like he swallowed a lemon, which was immensely satisfying.  
  
Felix listened thoughtfully while Carver spoke, asking clarifying questions or laughing kindly when Carver made a stupid joke. When Carver felt like he went over most of the major players that would be at the wedding, including various family members, the Kirkwall friends who’d be traveling, and anyone else that might dog them with questions, he sat back in his seat. “So, what about you? I should know things, yeah?”  
  
“That would be wise,” Felix said with a smirk. “I’m from Qarinus, in northern Tevinter on the sea. I grew up there before going to university in Minrathous. I studied mathematic applications of magic for my undergraduate degree, I have a master’s in mathematics and alchemy, specifically regarding development of panaceas through manipulation of base chemistry. And I’m still working on my thesis for my doctorate.” Carver swallowed nervously. This guy must be bloody brilliant to have all these degrees, and work on yet another, and here he was slumming it with Carver. He wondered if he’d be able to keep up.  
  
“My parents are Gereon and Livia, both work in academia, but luckily different departments than my own studies. I’ve known Dorian for years, as we grew up in the same circles and he studied with my father for several years, he stayed at the estate during holidays. We’ve kept in touch since he moved to Ferelden to be with Cullen, but we’re not as close as we once were.” Felix thought for a moment. “I have a cat named Dumat, because I am entirely sure he is an old god recreated in a cat’s body, my favorite color is green, and I like to go to the seaside.”  
  
Carver kept his jaw from dropping only through sheer will. He tamped down on his feelings of inadequacy and desire and fear all mixing together in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Okay, good to know. Well, uh, I— I’m a mechanic. I work at a car shop in Denerim, mainly focus on upgrades rather than repairs, engine work instead of body.” Felix’s eyes flitted down to his shoulders, and Carver felt a little stab of pride. That seemed like a good sign. He flexed his biceps just slightly. “I was in the army for a little while; that’s where I met Cullen, about ten years ago. Went to basic training together, and after I left, we stayed in touch.” Felix nodded, clearly waiting on him to explain himself further, but when Carver didn’t, he didn’t press. “So, you study magic. You’re a mage, then?”  
  
Felix looked at his hands before glancing out of the window, then back to Carver. “Yes, I am a mage, although a poor one at that. Casting can be… challenging for me. I mostly stick to theory and research, and I have colleagues to help with anything more than that.”  
  
“My sister is, too. But she’s pretty good at it. She made top marks in the Circle at Kirkwall, even though the president there was awful, but once you meet her you’ll know. She’s smart, ‘cause our—“ Carver freezes, halting before the words spill out. He wanted to connect with Felix, share something in common, but didn’t think before he started. He continued, “our father trained her, so. She’s good at it.”  
  
Carver’s fists clenched on his knees, and he gritted his teeth through the wave of grief that rushed through him, even years later. He shook his head clear and tried to move past it. “So, uh. We should probably figure out how we met and all that.”  
  
Felix cleared his throat and laced his fingers together on his knees, thankfully not asking any more questions about Carver’s embarrassing moment of weakness. “Right. What are you thinking?”  
  
Carver rolled his shoulders to release some of the tension building in them. “Probably should have been dating for at least nine months, right? That’s a good enough amount of time to get to know someone before bringing them to a wedding, I think. Have you been to Ferelden before?”  
  
“A few times for conferences. I could say I came to present a paper, spent a few nights in Denerim. Dorian invited me out for dinner with Cullen and him, and they brought you along.”  
  
Carver smirked. “That sounds about right, and I’m surprised they didn’t do it sooner. It sounds like something Cullen would do.” Carver wished it had happened, maybe he could have known Felix for real instead of this farce.  
  
“So we hit it off, obviously, and we’ve stayed in touch through the long distance. Texting, calls, et cetera.”  
  
“Perfect.” Carver smiled and tried not to fidget.  
  
Felix cleared his throat and shifted his weight in his seat. “We should probably discuss the logistics of this thing.”  
  
Carver fidgeted. “Right.” This was the awkward part. Well, _an_ awkward part. No doubt there would be more. “My mum will definitely expect affection between us. I can, uh, get kind of handsy. I guess what are you comfortable with? Holding hands? Arm around the shoulder?”  
  
Felix tapped his chin with a manicured finger. “Yes, those will work. Kissing will be fine, as well,” he said, and his eyes darted down to Carver’s lips. Carver bit the inside of his cheek to keep from licking them at that moment, and he exhaled to fight the urge. “Anything else we can discuss or deflect, I think.”  
  
Carver nodded. “Right. Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you don’t do this kind of thing often?” Carver rubbed the back of his neck with a tight grip.  
  
Felix laughed, a magical sound that sent sparks through Carver’s chest again. “What, you mean go on blind weekend dates to strangers’ weddings? No, this would be my first. Although I have gone to three weddings this year alone, and none of them had an open bar.”  
  
An undignified snort came from Carver before he could stop it. Felix quirked an eyebrow, and Carver pretended it didn’t happen. “At least Bethany knows our friends well enough to include one. I’ll have to thank her for including it to get you here.”  
  
Felix’s eyes twinkled with mirth, and Carver felt a weight lifting off his chest. Maybe this would work, maybe he could fool everyone at the wedding and spite his brother like this. Carver could just imagine the look on his dumb sarcastic face when he walked in with _Felix_ , a hot and smart and funny guy, probably out of Carver’s league in real life.  
  
Carver smiled and felt a giddy anticipation replace the dread for the future.

 

\--

  
  
Carver stopped in the doorway to the hotel room and dropped his bag in shock. Felix, not expecting Carver to halt so abruptly, bumped into his back. “Carver, what are you doing?”  
  
Carver just stared. The Spoiled Princess Bed and Breakfast seemed like a nice enough place when he booked the room online. The pictures were accurate: the room was large and airy, with enormous windows overlooking the lake, soft blues and greens in the matching bedspread, drapes, and loveseat, watercolor paintings of landscapes and cats. And, unfortunately, only one king size bed.  
  
“This isn’t right,” Carver said, and he moved aside to let Felix in. Felix put his own duffle bag on the bed and glanced around. “I’m going back to see if we can get the room I actually requested, with two doubles instead of one king.”  
  
Felix’s hands clenched and unclenched on the strap of his bag, and he stared at the bed without looking back to Carver. “Carver, it’s not that big of a deal. We can share. I don’t mind.”  
  
Carver swallowed and told himself to breathe. Felix may not mind, but Carver definitely did. It would be an _awful_ idea. Sharing such a small room with a man as attractive as Felix, not to mention spending all weekend beside him and being affectionate with him in public like boyfriends, would already be a test of his restraint. Sleeping beside each other in a bed would be pushing him to his limit. “It’s— I’m going to go talk to the lady again.”  
  
He left his bag on the floor and marched back down the stairs to the lobby. The sweet old woman who checked them in stood behind the desk, writing in a ledger with her glasses falling down her nose. When Carver glared down at her, she looked up with a sunny smile. “Hello, dear. Back so soon?” Her low, gentle voice lulled Carver into a false sense of calm.  
  
“Yeah, actually, you gave us the wrong room. I booked two double beds, not one king size.”  
  
The woman’s placid expression didn’t change at all, but she glanced over his shoulder as if searching for Felix. “I’m sorry dear, but that’s the only room we have right now.”  
  
Carver narrowed his eyes. He could tell she was lying: there was no one else in sight in the building as they came in, and no other cars in the parking lot, but he didn’t know how to tell her that. “Look, lady—“  
  
“Wynne,” she said.  
  
“Look, _Wynne_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. “I asked for a room with two separate beds. That is what you will give me.”  
  
Her smile widened and sharpened. “Look, _young man_ ,” and Carver felt something inside him shrivel at the steel in her tone. “That is the room you have, and I have no others for you. Is there anything else I can help with?”  
  
Carver swallowed thickly. “No, ma’am.”  
  
Wynne nodded. “Good. Breakfast is served between seven and nine in the morning. Have a nice stay.”  
  
Carver felt the urge to salute her, but kept it to a dip of his head before he scurried back to the room.  
  
_Shit_ , he thought. He couldn’t fight her, as much as he wanted to say something nasty, she was just a little old lady. He’d just have to suck it up.  
  
Carver stopped outside the door to their room, _the room with_ _just the one bed_ his brain unhelpfully supplied, and took a deep breath. This would be fine. They’d get through the weekend, it was only three nights after all, and they’d go their separate ways.  
  
When he opened the door to the room, he once again froze in the doorway to take in the picture before him. Felix lounged on the bed, socked feet crossed at the ankles, legs stretched out impossibly long, one arm behind his head and the other clicking the television remote, wearing his vest and white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and Carver wondered if he was dreaming. This looked exactly like a dirty magazine spread, the only thing missing was a sultry expression and a hand beckoning Carver closer to ruin him.  
  
Suddenly, the room that felt spacious and airy before now felt cramped and tiny, like all the air had been sucked out and Carver tasted Felix’s scent with every breath. Had they turned on the heat while Carver had been out? He felt sweat starting to bead under his shirt and on his brow.  
  
How could they live like this for three whole nights without Carver making a fool of himself?  
  
Felix looked up at Carver and smiled, and Carver’s heart started beating at double-time. “You’re back. Any luck?”  
  
Carver shook his head wordlessly.  
  
Felix shrugged. “It’s not a problem, I think the bed will be big enough for the both of us.” He stopped, and his eyes trailed down Carver’s body. “Well, I suppose at least as big as any bed that might fit you.”  
  
Carver knew Felix referred to Carver’s height, which made finding usable beds difficult, but all he could think about was Felix in his bed.  
  
Felix turned back to the television, flipping through the channels and relaxing. “What’s the plan for tonight?”  
  
“Tonight?” Carver’s voice broke on the word as his brain conjured the image of them in the bed together, doing more than just sleep. He cleared his throat and his mind before things became even more uncomfortable. “Uh,” he tried again, this time deepening his voice. “Beth is already here, and we’re meeting up at a local place with the whole gang for dinner.”  
  
“Sounds lovely,” Felix said and looked back over at Carver with a smile. Carver ducked his head and shuffled to where he dropped his bag, pawing through it for an excuse to hide his blushing face. “I’ll just use the facilities and I’ll be ready to go.”  
  
He disappeared through the bathroom door, and Carver buried his face in his hands. Oh, fuck.

 

\--

 

  
  
The first test of this fake relationship would be dinner with the gang. All of their old friends from Kirkwall managed to make it for Bethany’s wedding, which surprised Carver considering their various jobs and schedules. Isabela tried to turn dinner at the Tower, the local restaurant-slash-bar, into a dual bachelor/bachelorette party, but the bride and groom had flat out denied her. On the phone, Bethany told Carver that Isabela had pouted for a few minutes before sprouting a devious smile which made her nervous.  
  
Now that he and Felix were there, Carver understood Bethany’s anxiety. Felix squeezed his hand just before he pulled the door to the restaurant open. Carver glanced to the side, and the reassuring smile on Felix’s face helped bring his fears down a notch. This would be okay.  
  
Varric called out as they walked up, and Carver scowled at still being called “Junior” even when his brother wasn’t even here yet.  
  
Bethany’s head whipped around to find him, and she leapt from the table to run and jump into his arms. Carver stumbled back a few steps as her weight landed on his chest, but he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her in an embrace. “Carver!” she shrieked, “you’re finally here!” He spun her around in a circle before setting her back on the ground.  
  
“Course I am, sis,” he said, and when they pulled back, they just looked at each other for a few moments. Living so far apart had been a struggle. Leaving Kirkwall had been hard, but Wade’s garage in Denerim offered him more than he could ever hope for in their adopted city, and even Bethany couldn’t deny him.  
  
Carver touched her hair and she ducked back in for one more hug, squeezing his chest, before dragging him back to the table behind her. Carver twisted to make sure Felix followed, finding him staring at the twins with an inscrutable expression on his face. Carver quirked an eyebrow and Felix shook his head, finally moving towards the table with them.  
  
The rest of the table greeted them as they sat down, and Bethany directed Carver and Felix to two empty chairs beside her.  
  
“So, uh, everyone, this is Felix.” Carver gestured to the man beside him and laced their fingers together. Bethany shot him a reassuring smile and Carver let out the breath he was holding. He had told Bethany about this set-up, only because he knew he could never keep any kind of secret from his twin, especially at her own wedding, and it helped knowing someone was in his corner to help out. Everyone else, on the other hand…  
  
Isabela’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned over the table, holding her hand out for Felix to take. “Hello there, sweet thing,” she purred, and Carver glared at her.  
  
Carver pointed out and named the rest of the company, and each gave Felix a smile and a nod. Isabela winked lewdly, Merrill waved and spilled a little of her drink, Varric and Aveline each nodded, Anders raised his glass, and Sebastian stood to shake his hand.  
  
Isabela started whispering with Merrill immediately after the introductions, and Carver could tell something was up. He only hoped his embarrassment was kept to a minimum tonight.  
  
Bethany leaned over Carver to squeeze Felix’s hand. “Felix, it’s so good to finally meet you! Carver’s told me so much.”  
  
Felix smiled, smooth as silk, and Bethany’s face softened in a way that said she was totally and utterly charmed. “And you as well, Bethany. My congratulations on your wedding.”  
  
Bethany beamed and slid over to nestle herself into Sebastian’s side. “I’m just so glad you could both come! Carver was giving me the run around for far too long.” Carver huffed, and before he could get into it, Varric interrupted.  
  
“So Felix, tell us about yourself,” Varric prompted. Carver clenched his jaw, ready for an onslaught of questions. Felix felt him tense and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Carver’s shoulders relaxed slightly and they exchanged a quick glance.  
  
Felix described his life in a few sentences, his meeting with Carver and his life’s work. He spoke with confidence, his natural charm clearly working on the listeners.  
  
“Alexius, hmm?” Varric’s eyes narrowed, and Carver willed himself not to tense up again at his tone. “That name rings a bell. Do you know a Tilani? Maevaris Tilani?” Felix murmured an affirmative and Varric leaned back in his chair. “She’s a relative of mine, married a distant cousin a few years back. Thorold Tethras of the Merchants Guild, have you met him?”  
  
Carver wondered if anyone else could tell the way Felix stiffened, his smile freezing on his face. “Of course, Mae is one of my closest friends.” He squeeze Carver’s hand, and Carver took it as a distress signal.  
  
“So, Bethy,” he practically shouted across the table over whatever else Varric was going to say, “how’s mother been?” He tilted his head and twitched an eye. _Help, sister._  
  
Bethany gave him a responding eyebrow quirk and bit her lip. _In trouble already?_ Her expression seemed to say. “As expected, naturally,” Bethany said aloud, before launching into Leandra’s meddling over the past few weeks.  
  
Dinner continued smoothly, trading stories with the friends he hadn’t seen in a decade and trying to hide how much he learned about his new _boyfriend_.

“Carver, you’ve really grown up since moving to Denerim,” Isabela said, her eyes devouring his arms and chest.  
  
“Was that a compliment? I’m a little frightened,” He flexed a little, proud of the definition brought by manual labor, and definitely not frightened.  
  
Bethany sighed. “Please, Isabela, don’t start flirting with my little brother right here in front of me.”  
  
“I always did like a man in uniform,” Isabela ignored Bethany and carried on, “Shame you left to go fiddle with engines - but you always were fond of your toys.”  
  
“And here I thought you preferred a man out of his uniform,” Carver drawled; he felt a little thrill of satisfaction as Felix snorted next to him and tried to turn it into a cough.  
  
Isabela managed to corral the party into continuing the evening at the bar half of the Tower, where drinks were cheap and plentiful. “Since you both refuse to have bachelor parties, and my deposits on the strippers are forfeit, we at least need to get you both spectacularly drunk.” Sebastian glared, and Bethany giggled, and the festivities continued.  
  
At some point after midnight, Carver found himself squished into the center of a tiny booth, listening to terrible music from a jukebox (a jukebox!), with Bethany leaning into one shoulder and Felix across his lap.  
  
The drinks made him loose and affectionate, and he found himself rubbing circles into Felix’s back without realizing it. Felix didn’t seem to mind, as he relaxed into Carver’s side and rested his head on Carver’s shoulder occasionally. Carver tried not to overthink how good and right this felt, with Felix curled into him and giving him wide, open smiles whenever they made eye contact.  
  
Isabela returned to the table with a tray full of shot glasses. After setting her bounty down, she clapped her hands together. Merrill flinched from where she lay sprawled across the table, Anders blinked rapidly to focus on the newly appeared liquor, Aveline groaned, and Sebastian redirected his goofy smile from Bethany to Isabela. “Alright, lightweights, it’s time for another shot!”  
  
Groans and cheers from the lightweights and the guardians keeping them upright met her announcement, and Isabela passed out the glasses full of sparkly blue liquid.  
  
Isabela smirked and leaned over the table, drawing attention to the low V in her shirt and what lay under it. “Don’t worry, Carver,” she purred, “I know a way where you won’t need hands.”  
  
Varric barked out a laugh. “Vint, are you really okay with Rivaini flirting her way into your _boyfriend's_ pants?”  
  
Carver choked and started coughing, jostling Felix around on his lap and making Bethany grumble. “Why wouldn’t he be,” he wheezed. His face felt like he had taken a welding iron to it, red and hot and gross. “Bela’s always teased me like this, it’s not a big deal.”  
  
Felix’s voice surprised him, when he spoke. “I’m not worried, Varric. Carver knows where he’s sleeping tonight.” Carver buried his face in Felix’s shoulder as the group laughed.  
  
“In that case, your boyfriend will just have to feed it to you.” She handed off two of the shot glasses to Felix and returned to passing out the drinks with a wink.  
  
Carver froze. This wasn’t part of their agreement. He looked at Felix, whose eyes were soft behind his glasses. Felix smirked at him and held up the glasses.  
  
“Ready, Carver?”  
  
Carver nodded dumbly and, at Isabela’s shout, watched Felix take his shot, throwing his neck back in a gorgeous curve, his adam’s apple working as he swallowed. Carver thanked the Maker he had already drank so much, otherwise Felix sitting in his lap could get very awkward very quickly. Felix licked the rest of the sticky liquor from his mouth and Carver heard the blood rushing in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to trace the path of Felix’s tongue with his own, to taste the drink from his mouth, to—  
  
Felix held up the other glass to Carver’s lips and their eyes locked together. Carver’s lips parted and Felix slowly tipped the glass back, moving with Carver’s head until the glass emptied.  
  
Carver grimaced at the sickly sweet taste and licked it off his lips, noticing when Felix’s eyes didn’t leave his mouth. Felix leaned in unconsciously, his lips parting on a breath.  
  
“Fuck, that was hot!” Isabela shouted, and Carver felt the spell between them shatter. He turned to glare at Isabela, only to find the entire table staring at them with wide eyes and empty glasses. Merrill had her chin propped up in her hands like she was watching a particularly fascinating animal documentary, and Bethany, through her own drunk haze, looked like their birthday came early, eyes (majorly dilated) lit up and hands clapping together.  
  
Carver felt his face heat up, and he resisted the urge to duck his head into Felix’s shoulder. “Stop staring, guys, just.” He tightened his arm around Felix, and the man snuggled in closer to press a kiss below his ear. Carver felt a shiver run down his spine.  
  
“You can’t do something like _that_ and leave us hanging, kiss your boyfriend!” The rest of his drunken friends picked up Isabela’s demand and bombarded Carver with the order.  
  
He met Felix’s eyes, asking permission. Felix had agreed to general affection to sell their story, but making out in front of his friends while they were drunk hadn’t been in their negotiation, and he wondered if it crossed a line. Carver tilted his head in question, and Felix bit his lower lip with a nod.  
  
Carver leaned in slowly, giving Felix enough time to push him or back away, but it didn’t happen. He paused as their lips brushed gently, a spark rushing down his spine at the light touch, and Felix lurched forward to meet him.  
  
Felix tasted sugary-sweet, leftover from whatever shot they just took, with something unique underneath that was just Felix. His tongue chased the flavor, sliding easily into Felix’s mouth. Carver’s arm slid up from Felix’s back to grip the nape of his neck, holding him in place so Carver could kiss him thoroughly. Felix’s arms wrapped around Carver’s shoulders and his legs twisted to give him better leverage, grinding down onto Carver’s lap.  
  
Carver had tried not to think about what it would be like to kiss Felix, since he knew that this charade would need to last the weekend, and if Carver got too invested, he might make a fool of himself. He tried not to think, _oops, this is exactly what I didn’t want._  
  
He sucked Felix’s lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin, and the little whimper Felix let out snapped Carver out of his lust-fueled haze. He released Felix’s mouth with a pop and pulled back just enough to look at his face. Felix’s eyes were closed, his full flushed lips parted, color high on his cheeks. He noticed a couple of black beauty marks on his otherwise flawless skin. Carver felt another surge of _want_ inside him, and wondered if this was how Felix would look all fucked out in Carver’s bed.  
  
That thought felt like a bucket of cold water splashed into his face: to know that Felix wasn’t his, and probably would never be. This was a favor for a friend, not something Felix actually wanted. Carver corralled his thoughts back into something more friendly and less pornographic, and found his friends still staring open-mouthed.  
  
Merrill jumped up from the table and grabbed Isabela’s hand. “Uh, we have to, um, go.” Isabela shot Carver a thumbs up and mouthed ‘thank you’ as she was dragged away, likely only as far as the women’s restroom, but Carver wasn’t going to think about it. Varric cleared his throat and mumbled something about needing more drinks, before he headed towards the bar.  
  
Bethany looked at him with something in her eyes, and Carver didn’t want to know what it was, so he squeezed his arm around Felix again. “Ready to go back to the room?”  
  
Felix nodded, eyes still slightly dazed, and rose on weak legs.  
  
Carver turned to press a kiss to Bethany’s forehead. “Night, sis. See you tomorrow.”  
  
Bethany’s eyes were far too solemn and knowing. She nodded and turned to snuggle into Sebastian’s side as Carver lifted Felix from his lap, steadying the man’s wobbly legs.  
  
Carver and Felix stumbled out of the Tower, arms wrapped around waists and leaning into each other for balance. Carver thanked Andraste that their bed and breakfast lay within walking distance, and they didn’t need to find a cab. He couldn’t help turning his head into Felix’s neck, inhaling his scent and sending him into a fit of giggles at the ticklish rasp of Carver’s stubble.  
  
Once in the room, Carver fell face-first into the coverlet, and he heard Felix sigh before falling into unconsciousness.


	2. friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waking up, a sexually charged tuxedo fitting, and the ceremony rehearsal

Carver woke, and he decided immediately that this was a terrible idea, and that he would take it back if he could. Light burned through his closed eyelids, his mouth tasted dry and sandpapery, his head and stomach were trying to revolt and escape this horrible plane of existence entirely.   
  
Everything was terrible. He groaned and started to roll over, but another warm body pressed against his back, spooning him and stopping his movement. Felix gave off heat like a furnace, his chest snug against Carver’s back, an arm slung over Carver’s chest pulling him in closer in sleep, and legs tangled around Carver’s. If Carver shifted his hips back by an inch, he would feel Felix’s hips and—   
  
Carver panicked, tried to remember the night before. He remembered… dinner, introducing Felix, going to the shitty bar, many drinks, blue shots, Felix feeding the shot to him, the kiss—   
  
Carver managed to slit one eye open and peeked under the sheet at his body. He found himself still mostly clothed sans jacket and shoes, implying that nothing happened after they got back to the room. His suddenly insistent morning wood reminded him of his ungraceful fall into bed, leaving Felix to care for them both. He flinched at the hazy memory, wondering how much Felix judged him for crashing like that.  
  
Through the tangle of Felix’s arms and legs curled around him like a sexy octopus, Carver turned onto his side to face the man sharing his bed.   
  
This wasn’t bloody fair. Here Carver was, feeling like death warmed over, hungover as all hell, but Felix looked absolutely angelic. His face was smoothed of wrinkles and soft in sleep, black eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, lips red and plump and slightly parted, hair tousled but not a wreck, dark stubble emphasizing his high cheekbones and perfect jawline… His hand rose to touch Felix’s soft cheek before he could stop himself, and the man turned towards it unconsciously.   
  
Carver adjusted himself in his shorts, then extracted himself from the temptation in his bed. He shut the bathroom door with a quiet click, and flipped on the light. He groaned again at the sudden light, having forgotten about the hangover-sledgehammer destroying his brain while he examined his _not-boyfriend_.  
  
When Carver could open his eyes without needles stabbing into his front lobe, he looked around the bathroom. Something was… different. He didn’t remember this many scented massage oils beside the sink from when they checked in, nor the candles on the shelf, nor the— He shut the mirror cabinet with a snap. He was _entirely certain_ there was no box of condoms in there when they checked in. He thought about the devious glint in the old lady’s eye, and wondered.  
  
He turned on the taps in the shower, and the steaming water helped ease his various hangover aches. A soapy washcloth washed away the sweat and grime from last night’s bar, and he closed his eyes as the memory of Felix sitting in his lap came to mind. Felix felt warm and heavy, and when his arms wrapped around Carver’s shoulders and his mouth came down to press against Carver’s…  
  
Carver snapped his eyes open as he realized his cock stood at attention, insistent and needy, after thinking about Felix. He muffled a groan and considered his options. He didn’t want to jerk off in the shower, when Felix was sleeping just a few meters away, and doing so would open a door to inappropriate thoughts that he’d never be able to un-think. It would probably make Bethany’s wedding even more awkward than it already was. Developing feelings for someone pretending to like him was a recipe for disaster.    
  
On the other hand… Carver looked down at his dick, and stroked it absently. Felix had tasted so good even through the liquor, and waking up with Felix wrapped around him had been like a dream until the panic set in. Felix seemed clingy, like he slept with an arm and a leg touching his partner at any given moment, cuddled up close through the night. Was Felix always the big spoon? Carver’s eyes closed again, and he relived the feeling of Felix’s chest pressed to Carver’s back, arm slung across his hips, imagining a hand on Carver’s cock, gripping him tight like this. What would he be like in bed? He seemed affectionate and considerate, probably good with his mouth, if his kisses were any indication.   
  
By the time the bathroom mirror steamed up completely, Carver was sated and squeaky clean and felt much better.  
  
After shaving and running a little product through his hair, he realized he forgot to bring clothes into the bathroom. _Shit_. He could only hope Felix still slept on in the bedroom.  
  
Carver should have known he had no such luck. He opened the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his waist and steam billowing out behind him, to find Felix sitting up in the bed, sheet pooled at his hips and rubbing his eyes. He smiled when he heard Carver, and as his eyes focused, his gaze ran down Carver’s body.   
  
Carver squirmed under the scrutiny and sidled over to where his luggage spilled out over his suitcase. “Uh, morning.”  
  
Felix cleared his throat and moved around in the bed, rustling the sheets. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”  
  
 _Better, now that I jerked off to the thought of you._ Carver grimaced at his thought as he dug through his suitcase, looking for a proper shirt and jeans. “Uh, not so bad. How about you?”  
  
Felix hummed an affirmative response. “Are you finished in the bathroom?”   
  
Carver nodded and waved a hand towards the open door, still not turning around, and let out a breath as he heard the door shut behind Felix. He scrambled into his clothes, not wanting to be caught naked and off-guard again.   
  
When Felix exited after his own shower, Carver sat in the armchair by the window and flipped through the TV channels, resolutely not thinking about Felix naked and wet and slippery and—   
  
“So, I think we need to talk about last night.”  
  
Carver stiffened. Oh Maker, Felix was going to dump him right now and catch the next train to Denerim. He fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed Felix, but he thought Felix was into it, and after the kisses and the cuddling, now everything was ruined.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Carver blurts out. “I was really drunk, and I should have talked to you beforehand, I know we said we’d figure it out but I am so sor—“  
  
“Carver,” Felix interrupted, and Carver swallowed his shame as Felix put his hands on his hips. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry. I liked it.”  
  
Carver’s mouth opened and closed without a sound. “You— oh.”  
  
Felix smiled indulgently, and Carver’s worry abated for the moment. “I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” He moved to the side of the bed closest to Carver and sat down facing him, hands hanging loosely between his knees. “You’re right, in that it was more than we agreed on, but it’s not a problem. You seem a little skittish this morning.”  
  
Carver felt his cheeks warming. He cursed Felix being quite so observant, and could only pray that he kept his growing feelings less obvious than that. “I’m just, uh. Y’know. Hungover.”  
  
Felix nodded with a smirk. “If you say so.” His eyes glinted with knowledge, and Carver wondered if he had been louder than he thought in the shower earlier. “As long as we’re on the same page, then we’re good. What’s the plan for today?”  
  
Carver relaxed as they moved into more familiar territory. “First, breakfast. I’m starving. Then, I have to my brother and Fenris for the final tux fitting.” He made a disgusted noise and Felix laughed.  
  
“Not a fan of the tailor’s, then?”  
  
“The only time I’ve been was a few weeks ago for the wedding, and once in high school.” At least this time it was for a happy event, but Carver still hated the pinching and prodding, the measurements in awkward places, and the kind-but-pushy tailor moving him around like a huge mannequin. “You don’t have to come, since you have your own clothes and everything.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the tailor, darling.” The endearment sounded so good, so right falling from Felix’s lips, and Carver maybe found himself looking forward to the appointment now.   
  
“Garrett sounded even more cranky than usual in the group text yesterday, so. Brace yourself.”  
  
Felix smiled, and Carver felt that weird warmth in his belly again. “I promise, I can handle it. Have no fear.” And for some reason, Carver believed him.

 

\--

 

  
  
Carver squirmed as he put on each piece of his tuxedo. Formalwear always made him feel like he would suffocate, trapped in scratchy fabric and a noose-bowtie. It didn’t help that the last time he wore a suit like this had been for his father’s funeral, so he didn’t have the warmest connotations with such clothing.   
  
“Come on, Carver, get your ass out here,” Garrett called from the outer room of the dressing area.   
  
He fidgeted for another minute, staring at himself in the mirror. Garrett could wait. He felt like a child playing in his father’s clothes, not mature enough to be looking quite this _adult_ yet. He had never seen Malcolm in formalwear like this, but he still couldn’t help the comparison and wondering if he came up short.  
  
Just as he wondered if he should change into a different vest and jacket, Garrett slid the curtain divider open with a clipped, “Time’s up, baby brother,” and all but dragged Carver out of the dressing room.   
  
Carver squawked at the childish treatment and slapped at Garrett’s hand once they stopped moving. Garrett smacked him on the shoulder in retaliation, and a short scuffle ensued, only broken up by Fenris inserting himself bodily between them.   
  
Fenris shot Carver an apologetic look as he drew Garrett away, and Carver felt his face heat as he tried to calm himself down. He mumbled curses under his breath and tried to straighten his clothes again, when he caught sight of Felix.  
  
The tailor was upscale and fashioned in a gaudy Orlesian style, probably one of the nicest shops Carver had ever visited, which only added to his anxiety about not fitting in. The dressing room looked swanky, with enormous mirrors covering one wall, at least six separate curtained-off areas for individuals to change, a sitting area for visitors and family members with plush couches and glass tables with fresh cut flowers, and even an enormous glittering chandelier right above the tailor’s platform.   
  
Felix sat on one of the velvet couches, one arm thrown across the back and the other in his lap, looking comfortable and at home in such an extravagant location. From what Felix mentioned of his childhood, Carver assumed he grew up with old money, and Felix’s command of the luxury in the tailor’s shop confirmed it. Only the expression on his face showed anything other than feeling completely at ease, and Carver squirmed. Felix stared at him with wide, dark eyes, his lips parted slightly, and his hand twitched where it rested on his thigh.   
  
Carver fidgeted again. “Do I look ok? Is there something on my face?” He pulled at his collar and shifted his weight on his feet.  
  
Felix snapped out of whatever trance he fell into, and he immediately stood with an undeniable grace and poise. He crossed the soft carpet to stand in front of Carver and smoothed the wrinkles from the front of his tuxedo jacket. Felix had to tilt his head up to look into Carver’s face and he stood close enough for Carver to count a few black moles on his warm brown skin.   
  
Carver swallowed nervously as Felix’s warm hands slid across his shoulders, and Carver had a brief fantasy of feeling those hands on his bare skin.   
  
“You look just delectable, darling,” Felix said in a voice loud enough to carry across the room to Garrett and Fenris. Carver felt something twist inside him at the reminder that this was an illusion created specifically to fool his brother.   
  
“Uh, thanks.” He squirmed, and Felix’s bright grin drew an answering smile from him. They were standing just close enough that if Carver dipped his head down only a few inches—  
  
Garrett’s hand came down on Carver’s shoulder hard enough that Carver flinched. “Now, now, brother, you can’t be flirting like this in the tailor shop. It’s _indecent_.” Carver turned to scowl at Garrett, ready to criticize the way he and Fenris had done the same thing earlier, but Felix wrapped an arm around his waist and halted all of his thoughts except for where they touched.  
  
“Don’t worry, Garrett,” Felix said, “We’ll wait until the tailor leaves to sully the dressing room any further.”  
  
Carver heard Fenris chuckle from where he stood behind Garrett. His brother, on the other hand, looked baffled at having someone sass him. Carver smirked and slid his arm across Felix’s shoulders, drawing him closer. “Yeah, brother. It’s not like we fucked in the movie theatre bathroom and had the poor ticket-taker walk in and scream bloody murder.”  
  
“That was only _one time,_ ” Garrett said and scowled, and Fenris pulled him away with a gentle word before another fistfight broke out. They disappeared into separate dressing rooms to remove their own tuxedos, Garrett sending Carver the evil eye before sliding the curtain closed.   
  
Carver withdrew his arm from where it rested around Felix’s neck. Without the audience, they had no reason to continue the play-acting, and Carver felt the loss as Felix pulled away.   
  
“Is Garrett always like that?” Felix’s posh voice drew Carver from his thoughts.  
  
“Yeah, kind of. I think he’s extra stressed from the wedding, but we’ve always been a bit… antagonistic.”   
  
Felix hummed and returned to his spot directly in front of Carver, replacing his hands on Carver’s chest. His eyes dragged slowly up Carver’s body, and Carver felt heat rising under his collar. “We’ll just have to work extra hard to make him jealous, then.”  
  
Carver swallowed. “Yeah, definitely.”   
  
Felix pushed up onto his toes, bringing his mouth up to Carver’s ear and pressing their bodies together. Carver couldn’t help the rush of blood in his body running south and his hands came to rest on Felix’s elbows to steady him. “I can see Garrett watching us in the mirror, shall we do something about that?”   
  
Carver licked his lips and nodded, pulling back just enough to see the devious glint in Felix’s eye, before he ducked his head to press their lips together.   
  
It felt just as good as the night before, maybe even better because now they were both sober. Felix’s hands slid up to link behind Carver’s neck, dragging him down to Felix’s level, and Carver’s arms moved to grip Felix’s back, pulling him in until they touched from chest to hip.   
  
Felix’s fingers slid under the starchy collar of Carver’s shirt, and as his mouth opened on a breathy gasp, Felix’s tongue licked into him.   
  
Felix tasted different, now. The sickly-sweet alcohol taste was gone, replaced by an earthy flavor, like cloves and something more primal, reminding him of the smell of dirt after the rain. Carver couldn’t get enough of it. He sucked Felix’s bottom lip into his mouth, surprising a delicious little whimper out of Felix, and he wanted nothing more than to explore this development, to see what else would elicit that enticing response. He felt arousal pooling in his belly, and his hands clenched into Felix’s shirt.   
  
Carver was saved from further embarrassment by someone clearing their throat behind him, bringing him back into the present of the frilly Orlesian shop, and he pulled away with a goofy smile and a blush. The tailor, an Orlesian snob, had his arms folded across his chest and his foot tapping soundlessly on the carpet. “If you are quite finished,” he said snidely.  
  
Felix patted his shoulders and stepped back, color high in his cheeks and eyes dilated, looking just as ruffled as Carver felt, and pride rushed through Carver at the sight. Felix gestured over to the couches. “I’ll just take my seat again, while you,” and he gestured with his hands. His heart skipped at Felix’s speechlessness, considering how well spoken and articulate the man always seemed to be.   
  
Carver fidgeted for a moment, straightening his pants to hide any _excitement_ before he was shuffled around and placed exactly as the tailor wanted. “You’re lucky you already have a tux, you don’t have to go through all this right now,” Carver grumbled as the tailor flitted around.   
  
Felix rolled his eyes and took his seat, sprawling elegantly across the cushions again. How did he manage to make it look so sexy? “It just means I’ve done it before, but in Tevinter with my father’s tailor. He’s a thousand years old and moves slower than a grazing druffalo. I don’t know if I’d call that luck.”  
  
Carver chuckled at the mental image, and then jerked as he was stabbed by the tailor’s needle. “Hey, that hurt!”  
  
The tailor’s sigh was long-suffering and drawn-out. “If you insist on moving, I cannot help you.”  
  
Felix snickered at Carver’s pain, and Carver thought maybe it was worth it.

 

\--

 

  
  
Bethany’s sharp elbow in his side brought Carver back to the ceremony around him. He had been in the midst of a daydream about swimming in the lake behind them, but unfortunately it hadn’t lasted long.   
  
He caught the Mother’s glare and noticed everyone else moving around. _Oops_ , he must have really missed it. In his defense, all she said to him was, ‘walk here, stand here, be quiet,’ so listening to the explanation of the Mother’s rituals and all that were irrelevant for him. Hence, the daydreaming.  
  
At least the location was beautiful, even if the ceremony itself would be boring. The sun hung low in the sky over Lake Calenhad, ripples and tiny waves shimmering with sunlight, and a soft breeze keeping the wedding party cool in the summer twilight. The lawn outside the Chantry currently had the bare bones of the wedding planned out: only a few chairs delineating the front row of seats, a table to mark where the altar would sit, and the broken-down pieces of an arched trellis sat a few meters behind them, but by the next morning, everything would be in place for a beautiful day.   
  
He glanced through the crowd where the seats would be and found Felix watching him, arms folded and an amused smile telling him that, even if no one else noticed Carver’s lack of attention, he did.   
  
The Mother announced the end of the rehearsal, and Carver breathed a sigh of relief. He crossed the grass toward where Felix stood, following the meandering crowd making their way to the main road, where they would all walk to the restaurant for the dinner portion of this rehearsal night.   
  
Felix reached for his hand and laced his fingers through Carver’s, tugging to lead them away from the lake. “So how much of the rehearsal do you remember?”  
  
“All of it, thank you very much,” Carver said. “I’m offended that you would even suggest that I wasn’t paying attention.”  
  
Felix rolled his eyes. “What were Bethany’s vows?”  
  
Carver thought for a moment, his blank memory reflecting on his face. “Uh.”  
  
Felix laughed, that magical sound that made Carver’s heart twist a little in his chest, and a grin broke out over Carver’s face. “That’s what I thought,” Felix said triumphantly. He squeezed Carver’s hand and they walked slowly past the Chantry garden gate onto the sidewalk.   
  
He couldn’t describe how nice this felt, just the simple act of holding hands with someone he liked and walking with his family, listening to them chatter and gossip as they celebrated a happy occasion. Bethany was blissful and beautiful, his mother was ecstatic, Garrett was bitter and suspicious, and Carver couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, maybe one thing more, but he turned his thoughts away from his father’s absence and back to Felix’s presence.   
  
He watched the wedding party meander through the open space in the Chantry yard towards the road that lead to the restaurant where they’d have their group dinner that night. Bethany held onto Sebastian’s arm, leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping her upright. Sebastian’s face mirrored her own, with a little more incredulity that this was real life. It brought a warmth to Carver’s heart, to see his twin looking so euphoric and her fiancé so enamored.   
  
Carver felt satisfied in this moment, warm and included and wonderful. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and released it with a satisfied sigh.  
  
He caught Felix’s eye, not-so-hidden mirth in the dark depths. “What are you laughing at?”   
  
“I’m not laughing,” Felix said, “but you’re smiling. You look content, and happier than I’ve seen you since we arrived.”  
  
Carver felt blood rush to his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “This is nice, y’know. All my friends are here, my sister is practically vibrating with happiness, Mum is falling all over herself at the thought of grandbabies and off my back for a little while, it’s just. It’s good,” he trailed off at the end, feeling sappy.  
  
Felix breathed out a laugh and pulled Carver in closer with their linked hands. Felix looked up at him, eyes full of a meaning that Carver couldn’t exactly read. He pressed a chaste kiss to Carver’s mouth, and the warmth in Carver’s chest grew from banked embers into a purposeful flame. Carver stopped walking to focus on the feeling of Felix against him, his lips soft underneath his own, the warmth and unexpected happiness of the moment.   
  
This wasn’t part of their agreement, the easy affection and closeness. They had certainly agreed to hold hands or kiss in moments of duress in front of his family, but the way Felix had just pulled him in seemed different. It was more than Carver had hoped for, and a petty thought in the back of his mind wondered how long it would last.   
  
A catcall broke him out of the moment and Carver pulled back, taking a breath and pressing his forehead against Felix’s for a second before looking toward the sound.   
  
“Aww, don’t stop!” Isabela shouted. She had her arm wrapped around Merrill’s waist, the elf snuggled into her side as they meandered with the crowd. “Another free show will keep us warm tonight.” She winked, Merrill giggled, and Carver groaned theatrically.  
  
Felix tensed beside him, his laugh sounding forced and brittle.   
  
“You’ll just have to imagine it, Bela,” Carver laughed. “I know it won’t be the first time.”  
  
Merrill leaned up to whisper in Isabela’s ear as they sidled away, Isabela shooting them one last lascivious look. “You know me, Carver, I’m nothing but creative.”  
  
Carver snorted and shook his head, leaning into Felix. He no longer felt as relaxed and pliant as before, but his back was rigid and shoulders stiff. It was such a departure from seconds before that Carver couldn’t help his concern. Carver’s brow creased and he bent his head to watch Felix’s face. “Is everything ok?”   
  
Felix’s gaze still followed Isabela, but at Carver’s words he looked up and seemed to shake himself out of whatever mood he was in. His smile seemed… different somehow, but Carver couldn’t place exactly how. “Of course. Isabela and Merrill, they’re dating, yes?” Felix started walking again, pulling Carver by their laced hands but losing the full body contact.   
  
“Yeah they are, but it’s complicated. Sometimes they’re poly, sometimes they’re not, sometimes they break up but it’s never for very long. Isabela gets restless so she takes off to explore the world, and Merrill needs to stay with her kids at the daycare.” Carver shrugged. He didn’t really get it, but the two of them loved each other and made it work.   
  
Felix said nothing for long enough that Carver almost thought the conversation finished. “And… Merrill is alright with the flirting? She doesn’t—“ He stopped before finishing his thought. His hand tightened where it held Carver’s. “Have you—“   
  
“Have I what?” Something in the back of Carver’s mind tingled, some awareness that he couldn’t name.   
  
Felix shook his head. “Nevermind.” He resolutely watched the ground as they walked, loosening his grip on Carver’s hand.  
  
Carver felt strangely bereft, like he missed a vital part of what Felix meant but didn’t say. By the time they reached the restaurant, Felix had lost the uncomfortable tension, and Carver hoped that was the end of it.


	3. friday night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rehearsal dinner and what comes after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the rating change, here be smut! feelings first, though. if you want to skip the sex part, stop at "They returned to the bed and breakfast..." 
> 
> mentions of offscreen parental death and offscreen assassination attempt

Leandra planned the rehearsal dinner to take place in The Hound and Hare, an upscale restaurant overlooking the lake.  
  
Carver felt supremely lucky he brought Felix, because the amount of affection being traded amongst the guests would have made him sick otherwise. Bethany and Sebastian were practically feeding each other by hand, Garrett kept leaning over to whisper in Fenris’ ear, Isabela’s hand had disappeared twenty minutes earlier under the tablecloth and Merrill had gone suspiciously pink. Aveline and Donnic seemed to be the only couple keeping their hands to themselves, but they were halfway down the table keeping an eye on their toddler, and Leandra would probably smack Carver if he tried to shout conversation with them.  
  
“So, Felix,” Garrett started, and Carver braced himself. His brother leaned over the table with a gleam in his eye. “You’ve been dating Carver for quite a while, now, and I’ve never heard him mention you prior to the wedding. Why is that?”  
  
Carver grabbed Felix’s hand, setting their linked fingers on the table for everyone to see, and glared at his brother. “Maker, Garrett, are you really going to start interrogating him right here?”  
  
“It’s alright, darling, I can handle it.” Felix smiled at him before returning calmly to Garrett. “We’ve been long-distance for quite a while, and we didn’t want to broadcast it in case things fell apart.”  
  
Garrett narrowed his eyes and stared at Felix while he took a sip of his wine. Carver rolled his eyes. “So you’re from Tevinter, and by the looks of it, pretty well off.” Garrett spoke over Carver as he muttered curses. “Fenris is also from Tevinter, aren’t you, Fen?”  
  
Fenris glared. “Do not drag me into this, Garrett.”    
  
“What,” Garrett said. “I’m just trying to see if my brother’s new beau is as suspicious as he seems. From what we know of Tevinter—”  
  
Fenris pressed his lips together in an angry line. Felix took the insult in stride without so much as a hair out of place. “I do understand that my countrymen don’t have the best reputation here in the south, but I hope I can overcome their failings.”  
  
Brendan Vael chimed in from where he sat on the other side of Fenris. “I’d certainly like to know what drew an Altus to a Fereldan, as well.” Sebastian’s eldest brother and the reigning Prince of Starkhaven commanded the attention of the nearby guests, his regal air and gravitas holding himself above everyone in the vicinity. “I imagine your family would have preferred… another candidate.”  
  
Carver scowled. A candidate? Like Felix’s partner would be elected, or chosen by committee, or something equally as ridiculous.  
  
When the wedding party all met before the rehearsal began, Carver got a bad feeling about Sebastian’s brothers. Sebastian had warned Carver about their obsession with status and nobility, but Carver hadn’t expected the sneering and outright insults from the men. They were going to be _family_ for Andraste’s sake. Thankfully, they hadn’t been cold to Bethany, as their brother’s fiancee, or Felix, as the son of a magister, but the princes had done nothing but look down their noses at Carver and Garrett. Brendan hadn’t even looked at Fenris, even as Sebastian’s best man in the ceremony the next day.  
  
Felix’s hand slid onto Carver’s thigh beneath the table, clearly trying to keep Carver from launching himself across the table at the Starkhaven princes.  
  
“The traditional matchmaking process at home was far less entertaining than the love matches here in the south.” Felix sent a soft smile to Carver, and he could hear Isabela and Merrill cooing from where they sat further down the table. The saccharine sweetness would have made him gag if he hadn’t been so charmed by it.  
  
Tristan, the middle Vael brother, laughed while Brendan narrowed his eyes. “Quite. Have you kept your relationship a secret from your family as well? I can’t imagine they’d like to see an Altus extend himself in such a way.” The way Brendan said _extend_ sounded much like _lower_ , and Carver bristled. Maybe he wasn’t everything Felix’s parents would want for their son, but that didn’t make him any lesser for it.  
  
Did it really matter what Felix’s parents thought of him, anyway? They weren’t truly dating, and Carver probably wouldn’t ever see him again after this weekend, so why did he care?  
  
Carver opened his mouth, but Tristan spoke right over him to Felix. “Tell me, did you pack properly for the trip? I find the weather here much more pleasant than expected. Here I thought it would be pouring rain all weekend, and none of my raincoats have yet to see any use.”  
  
Carver tensed, but Felix’s hand on his leg managed to keep him in his chair.  
  
“Indeed, the weather is quite pleasant. The Maker seems to smile upon this union, and I trust it shall engender good relations between the two countries, to have such a skilled diplomat as your brother marry a woman as kind and lovely as Bethany.”  
  
Carver looked at Felix like he’d never seen him before. The flowery words seemed so strange coming from him, but the more Carver thought about it, the man was a noble from Tevinter. He would need to talk in circles to keep the vipers at bay.  
  
Was this an everyday thing in Tevinter? Underhanded insults and constant verbal circles just to stay afloat? No wonder the Vaels thought Felix couldn’t see anything in a Fereldan brute like him.  
  
A slight sneer appeared on Brendan’s face, but Tristan laughed and took the comment in stride. “Thank Andraste, for what would we have done if the Maker rejected the wedding? A mudslide? A plague of mabari running down from the hills?” Tristan laughed, but no one joined him.  
  
Uncle Gamlen leaned over, and for once in his life, Carver appreciated his timely interruption. “Say, you’re a Tevinter? Rich, then?”  
  
That feeling certainly didn’t last. “Gamlen!” Carver wanted nothing more than to fall into a hole and die.  
  
“I don’t…” Felix started, but Gamlen steamrolled right over him.  
  
“I’ve got this investment you might be interested in,” Gamlen said with a predatory gleam in his eye. Carver put his face in his hands, knowing what was coming but unable to stop it, much like the mudslide Tristan lamented. “I’ve got a multi-level marketing business opportunity, where you can get in on the ground floor to distribute a new product that can make you—“  
  
“Uncle,” Carver tried to break in. “This is just another—“  
  
“Hush, boy.” Gamlen waved him off and leaned so far over the table that his tie fell into his wine glass. Garrett snickered at Gamlen’s stupid offer and Carver’s uncomfortable fidgeting.  
  
Felix, for his part, listened to Gamlen’s scheme with a placid, interested expression, and only Carver noticed his lips twitching with repressed laughter. Felix managed to placate him with a noncommittal response, and Gamlen moved on to try and find other “investors.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Carver whispered.  
  
Felix bit the inside of his lip, and his eyes sparkled, and Carver felt a little shift inside him. “Really, it’s not a problem. Your uncle isn’t the first person to try and rope me into a pyramid scheme.”  
  
A lump in Carver’s throat prevented him from saying anything else, so he just nodded and bit down on the urge to lean in and kiss Felix in front of his whole family. It might help their fabrication, but he didn’t think it would help the weird fluttering in his chest.  
  
  
—  
  
  
After the third glass of wine and halfway through the second course, his mother let loose. Carver made significant eye contact with Felix as she leaned onto Carver’s shoulder, elaborating on how beautiful Bethany looked at the rehearsal.  
  
“She has that glow, the happy bride glow, and I’m just so proud of my baby,” Leandra said, on the edge of weeping.  
  
“Yes, mother, she was real pretty,” Carver agreed, the dutiful son that he was.  
  
“And you, my baby.” She touched his cheek with one cool, soft hand, and looked into his eyes, the familiar baby blue glassy with unshed tears. “You looked so much like your father bringing her down the aisle.” At that point, weeping overcame her, and she buried her face in Carver’s shoulder.  
  
Carver swallowed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, feeling prickling behind his own eyes. He had tried not to think about that part, the wrongness of walking Bethany down the aisle.  He stared at the table as his mother cried, avoiding the questioning or pitying glances of the other guests, unable to handle any more scrutiny but knowing he couldn’t avoid it for as long as his mother made a scene.  
  
“He would have been so proud, seeing all of you, happy and in love, and I—” she choked.  
  
Bethany knelt behind their chairs. “Mother, come with me,” she said gently. Carver lifted his arm and helped Bethany maneuver their mother to the hallway of the ladies room, the women disappearing inside to cry more and clean up.  
  
Carver slumped against the wall in the narrow hallway, strength leaving him.  He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to rid himself of the sudden melancholy that his mother’s outburst brought on.  
  
He agreed, silently. His father would have been so proud to see his children grown and happy. Carver felt like an impostor, walking Bethany down the aisle in his father’s place. It wasn’t right. The man should be here for this.  
  
He knew that was part of why Garrett acted so prickly this weekend; Garrett had taken care of the family when Malcolm died, the weight on his shoulders of carrying two high schoolers and a grieving mother had taken such a great sacrifice. Now, here was Carver, throwing that sacrifice in his face by taking Malcolm’s place in the wedding party. Bethany had even named Carver as her “maid of honor,” although he would fight anyone who called him that.  
  
“Carver?” Carver looked up through burning eyes and found Felix had followed them, and he now stood just beside him. Carver said nothing, knowing whatever words came out wouldn’t be right. “Carver, what can I do?”  
  
How could Felix be so good? The kindness felt unbearable in that moment, from a man who had been a stranger three days ago, and now felt so important to Carver already.  
  
Carver’s face crumpled, and his body would have too if Felix hadn’t moved so smoothly into Carver’s space, pulling him into a tight hug. He cried, and wished he didn’t.  
  
Carver stopped sniffling after a moment, and Felix squeezed him before releasing him, leaving his arms loose around Carver’s back. Carver whimpered at the loss, and Felix made a soothing noise. “I’m not leaving you, darling, let’s just go somewhere quieter, alright?” Carver nodded and let himself be led into another room in the massive restaurant.  
  
Felix somehow found a small loveseat and sat them both down, before pulling Carver close, almost into his lap.  
  
Carver closed his eyes and felt the wine clearing from where it fogged up his head. He breathed deeply, trying to rid himself of the sadness and the alcohol. Felix’s hand stroked through his hair, a soothing rhythm that Carver let himself get lost in.  
  
“Carver,” Felix said, soft and gentle. “How are you feeling, love? Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap. Exhaled. “He died when me and Bethy were in high school. It was long and slow and brutal. I had to… Garrett took the brunt of it, taking care of mum when she fell apart, and arranging everything at the end from hospice to the service. Dad never got to see much, since he worked a lot and we were still young when it happened, and now Bethy’s getting married and he can’t walk her down the aisle, and it’s me instead. I’m not… I’m just not.”  
  
Carver rubbed his face, wiped the salt from his cheeks, tried to pull away but Felix didn’t let him. “I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice sounded gravely and rough. “I didn’t mean to just fall apart on you like that, you don’t want to be taking care of a blubbery mess like me. I didn’t—“  
  
“When I was fifteen,” Felix interrupted softly, and Carver stopped. Felix’s eyes were pinned to the middle distance, but his arms still clutched Carver close, his hand never stopped weaving through Carver’s hair. “My magic had manifested and we all knew it would never be very strong. Not enough to take political office in Tevinter, which is what the family had hoped for, what was expected of me. I’m quite intelligent, but not gifted with casting, as I told you. My grandfather decided this was unacceptable for the Alexius heir. He…” Felix’s hands clenched where they gripped Carver’s shoulders, and Carver braced himself. “He sent men to eliminate me.”  
  
“What the fuck,” Carver blurted out, unable to restrain himself. “Are you shitting me?”  
  
The corner of Felix’s mouth tilted up at Carver’s choice of words. “I am not, indeed, shitting you.” His face resumed its solemn expression as he continued. “They failed, in large part to my mother’s interference. She was more enraged than I’ve ever seen her. She destroyed half of our kitchen before my father could calm her down, and only then after she had vowed revenge.”  
  
Carver thought about that for a moment. Felix’s grandfather tried to _kill him_ , just because he wasn’t as magical as everyone else. Even though he was brilliant and kind and successful, it still wasn’t enough. That was fucked up. Carver felt anger building in his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with your grandfather?”  
  
Felix’s soft sigh sounded resigned, tired. Carver slid his arms around Felix’s chest and pulled them closer.  
  
“Years of pure-blooded magical nonsense, I’m sure.” Felix’s words were muffled into Carver’s shirt. “Our family has done many things in the name of continuing the line, keeping the family in power.”  
  
“That’s fucked up,” Carver whispered, knowing he was repeating himself but unable to think of any other words to describe the horror he felt.  
  
Felix chuckled, but it was watery and choked. He raised his head to look into Carver’s face. “You have such a way with words.”  
  
Carver huffed out a laugh, and almost smiled. Only an inch separated their faces, and Carver wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. It would only be a small movement, to press their lips together again, like he couldn’t stop thinking about. Doubt rose in his mind, the reminder that this wasn’t real, that Felix didn’t want him like that.  
  
Carver wondered if the vulnerability he saw in Felix’s eyes was reflected on his own face. He felt lighter, having shared some of the weight on his heart and sharing a moment with Felix.  
  
Felix’s eyes darted down to his lips for a moment before returning to meet Carver’s gaze, and he took the question away from Carver. Their lips pressed together, and time slowed around them.  
  
It felt like an ember in his chest, like the inevitable conclusion to the pain they had revealed to each other. Felix’s hands touched Carver’s neck, tenderly, as if Carver were delicate and precious. Felix’s lips moved slowly over Carver’s, soft and reassuring, without the heat and passion of the night before but no less intense.  
  
Carver broke away, letting his forehead rest against Felix’s for a long, quiet moment. When his heart slowed from its rapid pounding in his chest, his cheeks lost the crying-heat, he sat back to rest on the couch instead of Felix’s legs.  
  
“We should probably get back,” he said, voice gone gravely once again. Felix nodded, and Carver couldn’t help staring at his slightly swollen lips.  
  
Felix took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a second, before standing and tugging Carver up with him. Felix pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped any remaining tears from Carver’s face.  
  
“There,” Felix said as he tucked the fabric back into his pocket. “Ready?”  
  
Carver honestly didn’t know. He nodded.

 

— 

 

The Hawkes and their respective partners ambled over with the rest of the Kirkwall crew to the Tower to celebrate the last night of singlehood for the bride and groom. Once again, Isabela suggested strippers, and once again, everyone else said, “No.”  
  
Varric had pulled out a deck of cards from somewhere and started dealing a hand of Wicked Grace before anyone could stop him. With the wine from dinner and another round of drinks at the bar, the tension of the uncomfortable family moments had disappeared. Relaxed nostalgia and nervous excitement filled the air.  
  
Carver turned down three shots Isabela offered to him, which made him painfully sober while the rest of the crowd became giggly, belligerent, or handsy. Since the ceremony preparation began early the next day, Bethany had warned him in no uncertain terms to stay mostly sober tonight, and not be hungover the next morning. Carver would deny any whining he did at the pronouncement, but watching his friends descend into drunken shenanigans was entertaining enough to keep him happy during his abstaining.  
  
He also got to sit with an arm slung around Felix’s shoulders, the man snuggled into his side, which Carver wouldn’t trade for anything.  
  
Felix, despite Carver’s assumption that he was talented at everything, was terrible at playing cards. He had a decent poker face, but managed to get terrible hands or give away important cards. After another lost round, he was sent to fetch more drinks for the table. He dropped a quick kiss on Carver’s mouth before walking away, and Carver didn’t think about the familiarity of the gesture. Much.  
  
Varric followed Felix, which Carver thought strange since the men hadn’t interacted much that day. Isabela shouted at him to play his cards, so he focused on the game only long enough to throw down some cards, no longer truly paying attention.  
  
When Carver looked back, the pair at the bar seemed much more tense. Felix’s back was straight and rigid, and his posture radiated tension. Varric leaned half on the bar, and even after years apart, Carver could tell Varric had something up his sleeve. After another minute of conversation, the drinks appeared at Felix’s elbow. Felix nodded, smile tight and jaw clenched, and brought the tray back to the table.  
  
Cheers greeted his arrival from the rest of the group, and Felix didn’t meet Carver’s eyes as he passed the mugs out.  
  
“Everything okay?” Carver asked as Felix retook his original seat, not where he had been almost in Carver’s lap just before getting the drinks, and Carver ignored the unsettled feeling in his belly.  
  
Felix locked his eyes on a spot just above Carver’s left shoulder. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
Carver didn’t know, and didn’t want to ask, but he could tell something was up. He looked over at Varric as the dwarf sat back in his place at the head of the table. Varric met his eyes and dipped his head in greeting, then smoothly transitioned back into the charming dealer.  
  
Once again, Carver got that tingle on the back of his neck that he was missing something important.  
  
  
—  
  
  
They returned to the bed and breakfast, subdued after the histrionics at the dinner and the drinking afterwards, but it was a comfortable silence rather than awkward or painful. Carver still didn’t know what Varric had said to Felix at the bar, but if Felix wasn’t telling him about it, Carver wasn’t going to ask.  
  
Upon entering their room, Carver narrowed his eyes. Things were different than he remembered leaving it that morning. Someone had scattered rose petals across the table in the kitchenette, beside a plate of strawberries and a bucket holding ice and champagne. The overhead fluorescent light didn’t turn on when he flipped the switch, but the dim lamp on the side table beside the bed did, and the pink scarf draped across the shade threw a rosy glow into the room.  
  
 This was unbelievable. They definitely had not ordered this, and it was far too romantic for Carver to feel comfortable sleeping beside someone who wasn’t his boyfriend. “What the f—“ Carver began, but Felix interrupted by pressing him into the back of the closed door.  
  
Carver looked down at Felix with surprise, taking in Felix’s dark, dilated eyes trained on Carver’s mouth, a dark flush across his cheeks, and quick breathing. Carver licked his lips unconsciously, and Felix sighed. All the blood in Carver started rushing south.  
  
Felix raised himself on his toes to kiss him, using his weight to hold Carver against the door. Carver’s hands rose to grip Felix’s upper arms, pulling him in and enjoying the hot length of his body.  
  
Felix made a small noise against Carver’s mouth, his lips soft and warm, and Carver opened instinctively. Felix’s tongue pressed against Carver’s, a gentle back and forth that sent a coil of desire into his cock. He tasted like Carver remembered, that blend of man and spice and something else that Carver needed, he craved like a thirsty man in the desert. Considering his sex life before this weekend, the analogy was unfortunately apt.  
  
Felix trailed kisses across Carver’s cheek and down the column of his neck. Carver’s hands tightened on Felix’s arms, and his head tilted back to hit the door with a soft _thud_.  
  
“Wait, Fee,” Carver said, tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth. Felix looked up at him with those dark eyes, and Carver swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Are you sure about this?” Carver counted back the number of drinks he saw Felix take, and it didn’t seem like enough to get him drunk.   
  
Felix looked into his eyes for a long moment, the black pools of his pupils leaving only a slim brown rim of color, glittering in the romantic light of the bedroom. Carver could see him considering something momentous, and he wondered if he measured up to whatever it was. “Oh, Carver.” His voice broke, and Carver licked his lips at the heat blooming in Felix’s eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”  
  
Carver nodded so quickly that, if Felix hadn’t surged up to kiss him again, he might have pulled a muscle in his neck. Felix’s tongue teased at the seam of Carver’s lips, and as they opened on a gasp, it darted inside to taste and lick and steal the breath from Carver’s lungs.  
  
Carver sagged against the door, unable to hold up his own weight under the assault of Felix’s mouth on his, and his hands scrabbling across the planes of Carver’s chest. Felix’s warm and nimble fingers slipped buttons out of their holes and sleeves off his shoulders, until Carver stood naked from the waist up. Felix kissed down Carver’s neck, to his collarbones, where the chest hair grew sparsely and thickened as he moved south.  
  
Felix snickered against Carver’s skin. “What’re you laughing at?” Carver asked, sounding breathy and wanton.  
  
“Your freckles are adorable.” He made a graceful transition from standing to kneeling, the movement of his body sinuous and tantalizing, traced the lines of Carver’s muscles across his chest with gentle fingers, pecking and nipping as he moved along. “Your blush comes all the way down your neck into your chest, like your freckles.”  
  
Carver squirmed, definitely _not_ ticklish. “’S’not my fault,” he mumbled.  
  
“It’s precious.” Felix sucked one of Carver’s nipples into his mouth, and Carver couldn’t help moaning. Carver felt the vibrations of Felix’s laugh rush through him, and the slow building lust in his belly erupted into full flame. “I want to lick every freckle on your body, and then some.”  
  
“Fee,” Carver moaned, and Felix hummed at the sound of his name. Carver’s hands opened and closed on Felix’s shirt, and his breathing grew labored. “Fee, please.”  
  
Felix opened Carver’s pants, dragging them down his hips and letting them pool at his feet, then ran his fingers under the crease of his briefs. The touch sent goosebumps across all Carver’s exposed skin, and Carver bent his head to look down at Felix kneeling before him. It was a heady sight, the amazingly smart, charming, sweet man looking at him with such need in his eyes, and Carver tried to keep his breathing even.  
  
His hips bucked at the first touch of Felix’s hand over his still-clothed cock, straining to full hardness and stretching the fabric. Felix licked his lips and dragged his nose from the base up to the head, and Carver keened. Oh _Maker_ his hand…  
  
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Felix said, continuing his light touches and teasing. “How you would taste, how you would feel under my hands.” He slid Carver’s briefs down an inch, almost revealing the cock straining for freedom. “It’s all I can think about, since I heard you in the bathroom this morning.”  
  
Ice slides into Carver’s belly, shame and embarrassment at being caught jerking off, but Felix chose that moment to pull the flimsy fabric away from his cock and envelop the head of Carver’s cock in his hot mouth. The distraction worked, and Carver’s eyes closed as his head fell back, slammed against the door.  
  
His heart thumped in his chest, and his hands scrabbled across the wood. His breathing sounded ragged and harsh in the room, the only other sound he could focus on being Felix slurping and lapping at his cock, and Carver tried to think about anything else, the most unarousing thoughts to keep himself from spilling prematurely in the perfect heat of _Felix_.  
  
Felix seemed to understand Carver’s attempt at patience, but certainly didn’t help him. If anything, Carver’s struggle spurred him on, and Felix started taking more and more of Carver into his mouth. His lips touched where his fist gripped the base of his cock, and on the next thrust, he went a little farther, and a little farther, until he had all of Carver inside him. Carver could feel Felix’s throat contract around him, and—  
  
_Grandmother Amell’s sixteen cats and the old smell of her house. Sebastian Vael’s awful brothers, wearing raincoats and being slobbered by Mabari. Swimming in the freezing cold lake at midnight. Please, please please, don’t come too early, you can do this Carver._  
  
Felix brought him back to the moment with a whine in his throat that Carver could feel, where he was seated deep in Felix’s throat. Carver keened, a high noise that Felix liked if the squeeze of his hand on Carver’s hip were any indication.  
  
Carver managed to open his eyes, blurry and crossed after such intense sensations, and when he finally focused on Felix, all was lost. Felix’s eyes were pinned on his own, his mouth red and wet and wide open around the root of Carver, his cheeks flushed dark with his own arousal, and it was the most perfect sight Carver could imagine.  
  
With a cry he came, orgasm crashing into him. _Felix, Felix, Felix,_ he thought.  
  
When he came back to himself, he blinked a couple of times at the ceiling, white noise buzzing in his ears and tingling in his fingers and toes. He managed to swallow the extra saliva pooling in his mouth and tilt his head down, finding Felix sitting back on his knees, still fully clothed but the placket of his pants open, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and an expression so smug Carver coughed out a laugh.  
  
“That… Fee…” Carver’s tongue felt thick in his mouth and brain fuzzy with euphoria, but Felix understood the general sentiment behind it. “I’m… uh.”  
  
Felix rose to his feet and pressed a kiss to the corner of Carver’s mouth. Before he could pull back too far, Carver managed to regain control of his limbs and he pulled Felix in by the back of his neck to kiss him properly. Carver licked the taste of himself out of Felix’s mouth, tried to devour this wonderful man, wanted nothing more than to make him come the same way Carver just had.  
  
One of Carver’s hands moved to push Felix’s pants down, but he still felt post-orgasm-uncoordinated, and just fumbled around for a moment instead. Felix huffed a breath of laughter into their kiss, and his hands helped Carver rid himself of his pants until they stood mostly naked.  
  
Carver’s hands rose to cradle Felix’s face, his thumbs caressing over Felix’s cheeks, under his eyes, the curve of his jaw, every delicate inch of him, and Carver couldn’t get enough.  
  
He walked them back to the bed until Felix’s legs bumped into the side. Carver pulled his mouth away, but Felix chased him for another last kiss, or two, or three. Carver snorted at his eagerness and held Felix’s face away deliberately. Felix whined, a soft noise in his throat, and Carver felt sorely tempted to go back in for another kiss. He swallowed and waited until Felix’s eyes opened, slowly and dazed, glassy with lust. Carver had to bite down on his lip to keep from moving in again to taste him.  
  
He stepped back and stripped the last of his clothes, then helped Felix undress, savoring each inch of skin, gluttonous for every part of Felix he could get his hands on. When Felix stood gloriously naked before him, Carver just looked, licked his lips, felt the stirrings of arousal growing again in his belly.  
  
Felix smirked and set his hands on his hips, right above the V of his hips leading Carver’s eye down to the cock standing proudly at attention. “Like what you see?”  
  
Carver growled and tackled Felix to the bed, crawling over him to grind their hips together. Felix moaned at the friction, and his hands clutched Carver’s back. Carver pressed his face into the join of neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent he felt himself growing addicted to, pressing his lips against the perfect golden brown skin.  
  
“Carver, don’t tease,” Felix breathed out, wriggling beneath Carver’s solid bulk. Carver smirked and grazed his teeth along Felix’s collarbone. His tongue peeked out to taste and Felix jerked and groaned again. Beads of sweat pooled in the hollow above his sternum, and Carver lapped it up with zeal. He found it a little weird that Felix’s chest and belly and groin were completely bare, no body hair to be found except on his face and head. He wondered if it was a Tevinter thing.  
  
Felix keened again at the scrape of Carver’s teeth along the thin skin of his neck, and Carver took pity, wrapped one hand around Felix’s member. He propped himself on the other elbow, sliding to the side until he lay half over Felix, his thigh draped across Felix’s hips and inner arm brushing against Felix’s chest with every other stroke.  
  
Felix felt heavy, hot and hard and perfectly sized for his hand, but then Carver thought almost everything about Felix was perfect. Carver looked down Felix’s body to his cock, mentally committing this moment to his memory: his gorgeous dick in Carver’s pale pink hand, the shaft and balls an umber brown against the gold undertones of his skin, the red tip sliding in and out of Carver’s fist with precome easing the friction. Carver wanted to lick every inch of him, taste and devour until this craving, this yearning, this fire in his blood was satisfied. Even after coming as hard as he did, Carver felt the stirrings of arousal creeping in again.  
  
His hand worked over Felix, drawing breathy sighs from him, and Carver watched as his fists clenched into the coverlet beneath them. Carver grinned and mouthed against the sensitive skin below Felix’s ear.  
  
“All right?” he asked, and he felt Felix’s cock twitch. He smirked as Felix nodded, eyes screwed shut and biting his lower lip, tension written through his body. “I’m going to take that as a yes. You like it when I talk?”  
  
Carver slowed the motion of his hand, and Felix whined at the motion. His hips jerked upwards, trying to follow Carver’s hand. “Carver,” he whispered.  
  
“Don’t worry babe, I got you.” He hesitated as the endearment slipped out, but ignored the implications to focus on the wonderful, pained expressions on Felix’s face. “You look so good for me, so hot taking my cock like that. I’m impressed you took the whole thing, you’re a fucking champ, you know that?”  
  
Felix whimpered his name again, muttered a few words Carver didn’t know, and his breath became shallow and rapid as his orgasm neared. Carver leaned in to suck a love bite into his neck just below Felix’s ear, and the twist of his hand on the head of Felix’s cock sent the man over the edge. Felix’s back arched, he cried out, his cock shot out ropes of come onto his belly, and then he collapsed.  
  
Carver propped himself up again to look at Felix, his face smoothed out in bliss and his hands relaxed on top of wrinkled sheets. Carver managed to lean over to the bedside table for tissues and wiped Felix off, delicately removing the cooling liquid from his skin. Felix hummed contentedly, and Carver felt that tug in his chest again, not the lust he knew well, but something else, something warmer and full-bodied and terrifying.  
  
“Turn off the light, _amatus_ ,” Felix mumbled, eyes still closed and words slurred with sleepiness. Carver didn’t know what that last word meant, but Felix had said it right before he came, too. Carver would have to ask in the morning, about that word and the weird hairlessness, as Felix chose that moment to drop off. Carver watched him for another long moment before switching off the lamp and pulling the covers over them both.


	4. saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wedding

The insistent _beep beep beep_ of a phone alarm broke into Carver’s sleep, and he groaned before slapping wildly at the nightstand beside the bed. After a few unsuccessful attempts to shut the grating noise off, a hazy memory of his phone’s last known location rose to mind, inside his pants pocket; then the activities that led to the pants removal came back to him, and Carver leaned over the side of the bed digging through the haphazard pile of clothes until he could silence the damn thing.  
  
The only positive thing he found about waking up early was the bundle of warmth tucked into his side. He rolled back into bed, back to his position snuggling with a sleepy Tevinter. Felix’s eyelids fluttered and he shifted restlessly, clearly woken by the annoying alarm and Carver’s subsequent flailing, but with a “shh” and a gentle hand through his hair, Carver calmed him back into sleep.  
  
He still hardly believed his luck. Before meeting Felix, he’d expected at best a drunken kiss or two after the reception, maybe a brief friendship for a few days after the weekend ended and periodic updates from Cullen and Dorian about Felix’s life in general. Even after meeting Felix, learning about his studies in Tevinter and seeing first hand how charming and kind he could be, Carver didn’t think the man would show the slightest interest in him besides what was required to fool his family.   
  
This… this was so much better. Carver felt that flutter in his belly, the one he seemed to get every time Felix even looked at him. It was a hot wave flooding through him, making him smile and want to press into Felix, get under his skin and into his heart. Felix seemed to understand him, or at least be kind enough to try, and Carver wanted to do the same. He wanted more long talks about _feelings_ , which was weird, and he wanted to do couple-y things like at dinner last night, and he wanted to wake up beside him, and basically everything that came with a relationship.   
  
And the sex. Holy shit. He wanted more of _that_ , definitely.   
  
The thought of a relationship wasn’t quite as terrifying as he expected. His past relationships weren’t quite relationships at all, mostly friends with benefits or no strings attached sex; a couple of times he’d actually dated someone, but it fizzled out after a few weeks. This felt different than any of those things, deeper, fuller, in the pit of his belly like a jump from a great height, like he actually wanted to spend the night beside Felix, in his arms, not skip out and shower at the first opportunity. He’d never felt as close to someone as he did right now, physically and emotionally, savoring the body warmth and sleepy affection.  
  
Is this what a relationship with Felix would be like? Is this the domesticity that he feared? As Carver wondered, Felix murmured something in his sleep and clutched Carver closer, like an answer to his unspoken thoughts. Carver pushed down on the thing that felt like hope blooming just under his ribs. He’d need to put a pin in that idea for now.  
  
He pressed one last kiss to Felix’s cheek before rousing, dragging himself from Felix’s clingy limbs into the shower. He stretched, relishing each ache and pain with the memory associated with it from the night before. _Pressing Felix into the bed below them, sucking bruises into his skin, Felix’s eyes wide and mouth open kneeling before him._ He couldn’t help the smile that covered his face, alone in the shower, feeling blissful and happy.   
  
Even as distracted as he was, he managed to shower and shave without incident. Felix slept on as Carver dressed and grabbed his suit and other wedding things Bethany told him he’d need that day.  
  
Carver sat on the side of the bed to put his shoes on. He leaned over to say goodbye, brushing a hand through Felix’s hair and feeling that little kick of pleasure as Felix turned his face into Carver’s hand, nuzzling sleepily. Did he really need to leave? Couldn’t he just stay here in bed with Felix all day, touching and snuggling and kissing? Carver swallowed hard to push down on the warmth blooming in his chest. Maybe it was too much too fast, maybe Felix didn’t feel the same pull, maybe…   
  
“I’ll see you at the chantry, okay?” Carver whispered, and Felix nodded without opening his eyes. He tilted his chin up, seeking out a kiss, and Carver smiled as he obeyed. The kiss remained chaste, but Carver still felt the undercurrent of heat and happiness. He dragged himself away again with one more glance at Felix, memorizing the sleepy bliss and the little smile, tucking it away somewhere special.  
  
Bethany eyed him suspiciously when he arrived at the church, whistling and smiling. “What the hell, Carver, you’re late!” He had to admit, the good cheer was uncharacteristic of him even on a happy day like a wedding.  
  
“Sorry, Bethy,” he said without remorse as he dropped a kiss on her hair. She sat in front of a vanity glaring at him through the large oval mirror, and Merrill stood behind her fixing her hair with little white flowers. Merrill caught his eye and smirked knowingly, and Carver felt himself grin and redden in response.   
  
“Why are you so smiley?” Bethany crossed her arms and stared at him hard for a minute. Carver fidgeted and hung up his tuxedo to avoid her gaze, when she gasped suddenly. “You did it! You had sex with Felix last night!”   
  
He felt his cheeks burn and he turned around to face her. “Uh,” he said, biting his lip to keep the goofy smile from breaking out.  
  
“Why wouldn’t he? They’re boyfriends, aren’t they?” Merrill looked between them, brow creased in confusion.   
  
Carver shifted his weight on his feet, looking anywhere but at the women. “Merrill,” Bethany said without looking away from Carver. “Can you go see where my mother is? She said she had grandmother’s ring but I just want to make sure.” Merrill agreed with one more glance between them, and left the twins alone.   
  
Bethany stood and hit Carver in the shoulder. He flinched with an, “ow, hey!”   
  
“Carver! What were you thinking? This was supposed to just be for the weekend, and look at you. You’re smitten!”   
  
Carver rubbed his shoulder and avoided her gaze. “I’m not,” he protested, but Bethany just rolled her eyes. “He’s just, Maker, Bethy, you saw him. He’s just.” _He’s wonderful_ , he wanted to say. _He’s kind and considerate and so bloody gorgeous, and I can’t help falling in love with him._ He swallowed nervously. “I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“Well?” She put her hands on her hips. Her mouth set in a grim line and her eyebrows lowered on her brow, but her eyes softened. “What happened?”  
  
“We, uh. Well we kissed at the dinner on Thursday, and it was just, like, so good. And then yesterday after mum lost it, I told him about dad and everything, and he told me some stuff about his family.” Carver knew he was being deliberately vague and Bethany hated it when he kept things from her, but he also knew Felix wouldn’t like Carver sharing all his secrets. As much as he felt the need to share everything with her, he’d rather have an irate sister than break Felix’s trust.   
  
He just wished he were better with words. “We connected, and it was just, like.” Carver gestured with his hands, unable to articulate the tender thing growing between them, fragile, warm, important. He chanced a glance into Bethany’s face, and her eyes went soft with empathy.  
  
“So then after dinner last night, we went back to the room, and, y’know.” He shrugged and raised one hand to scratch the back of his neck, eyes skittering around the room. “Things happened.”   
  
Even if Felix didn’t feel the same way Carver did, even if it would never happen again, Carver couldn’t regret it. He’d never felt that way during sex before, like it was momentous and world-shattering, and it had been almost too much.   
  
Bethany’s pulled Carver down into a hug. “Oh, brother. You’re such a softie.” Carver huffed in indignation, but Bethany squeezed him harder. When she finally released him, she kept her hands on his elbows and made him look at her. “Carver, are you going to tell him how you feel?”  
  
His eyes slid away. Bethany sighed, squeezed her hands on his arms. “That’s alright. You can wait til after the wedding. Probably best, since I need all the attention today as the radiant bride.”  
  
Carver let out an unexpected laugh. “Radiant? Is that what Merrill told you? Because I’d call you—“ His throat closed up on the teasing words as he really looked at her.  
  
Bethany wore her best dress, a purple gown with silver accents. Her shoulders were bare, her hair halfway up, but there were roughly a thousand bobby pins still sitting on the vanity, so Carver assumed she wasn’t done.   
  
“Maker, Bethy,” he choked out, feeling the sting behind his eyes again.   
  
“No, Carver!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “You can’t cry and you can’t make me cry! I already have my makeup on and if you ruin it, I’ll throw you in the lake and hold you under.”  
  
Carver laughed. “If _I_ ruin it? You’ll be the one crying, that’s your fault.”  
  
She punched him again, but she blinked back the tears welling in her eyes, and her makeup remained intact.   
  
This was truly happening, wasn’t it? His sister was getting _married_ , and she’d start her own family, and while they’d still be twins, it would be different.  
  
Carver pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him just as tightly.  
  
“Love you, sis,” he mumbled into her hair. Bethany smelled familiar, like baby powder and sweet smelling flowers and childhood.  
  
“You’re ruining my hair now,” she sniffled. “You’re going to slobber all over me and _then_ what will Sebastian’s brothers say?”  
  
He snorted and let go, pulling back until he held just her delicate hand in his, rubbing the other hand through his hair. “They’ll call me a mabari to my face this time, instead of implying it.” They breathed out a laugh, and he squeezed her hand. _We’ll be okay, right?_  
  
Bethany nodded and blinked fast. _Always_.   
  
  
\--

  
Carver pulled the starchy collar of his tuxedo away from his neck, praying the sweat didn’t wet the fabric too much. Why was he nervous? There was no reason for him to be nervous. This was _Bethany’s_ day, not his.   
  
Bethany’s radiating calm made it worse. Her face was serene and cool, showing none of the nerves that Carver himself felt.   
  
At least he and Leandra were in the same boat. Before leaving the Chantry anteroom to go outside and take her seat, she cried for ten solid minutes on Carver’s shoulder. “My baby’s all grown up,” she wept. Carver patted her on the back, making eye contact with each of the wedding party who laughed at him quietly.   
  
“There, there, Mother,” he said as his thoughts raced ahead.  
  
She was right, though. Bethany looked so beautiful, ethereal, all those words that meant _pretty_ that Carver couldn’t think of because he just felt so _nervous_.   
  
Outside, the string quartet began playing, and the bridesmaids started tittering. Bethany took a deep breath and smiled at them, eyes locked on the door leading outside to where the guests and the groom waited. Merrill brushed a strand of hair away from Isabela’s face before she walked out on Tristan Vael’s arm.   
  
As the bridesmaids and groomsmen filed out arm-in-arm, Isabela scratching at Garrett’s beard, then Brendan and Aveline both looking supremely awkward, Carver felt his heartbeat ramp up. Finally, he and Bethany were the only ones left in the vestibule, and it was time.  
  
Carver took a deep breath and looked at his sister. Her eyes twinkled. “Ready, sis?” He tilted his head to the left. _Is this really happening?_  
  
One side of her mouth quirked up, and she bit the inside of her lip. _Scared, brother?_  
  
Carver huffed. _Are you?_  
  
She nodded. “Let’s go.”  
  
He held out his elbow like Sebastian had shown him, and Bethany put her hand in the crook, pulling them side-by-side. Carver wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then put his hand over hers. “Love you, Beth.”   
  
The music swelled, and Bethany recognized their cue. She took a deep breath, squeezed Carver’s arm, and they stepped through the church doors into the sunshine.  
  
The assembled guests stood as the two of them approached the end of the aisle. The grounds looked beautiful: enormous willow trees stood tall and branches hung low in the water, giving the guests shade dappled through with soft light, the water seemed unbelievably blue and still, the purple and white flowers hanging from the guests chairs matched Bethany’s bouquet and the one in Carver’s buttonhole. Sebastian stood at the end of the aisle underneath a white trellis, Fenris at his side and their friends collected around them.  
  
Carver felt like he would jump right out of his skin, full of nervous anticipation. He clutched Bethany’s hand to fight the jittery motion of his hands, and as the music began, they moved forward.  
  
He took in the ceremony in flashes: the sound of his mother weeping into her handkerchief, Sebastian’s wide-eyed awe and wonder at the first sight of his bride, the bridesmaids sneakily wiping away their own tears, the delicate smell of Bethany’s flowery perfume and the whiff of rum from Isabela’s bouquet somehow, his eternally scratchy tuxedo, the Chantry mother’s benevolent smile as Bethany stood at the altar, the red ribbon against Bethany’s pale white hand and Sebastian’s ruddy brown one as they were ceremonially tied together for this life and forever.   
  
The one vision that stuck out and truly took his breath away happened a few minutes into the ceremony. During the walk down the aisle, he felt tunnel-vision eliminating everything except where to put his feet until they made it to the front and he lifted Bethany’s veil from her face. He had been so wrapped up in his sister’s happiness once he stood in place that he forgot to look back at the crowd until the Revered Mother’s speech lost his attention.  
  
His mother sat in the front row beside Gamlen and his daughter, blowing her nose into her handkerchief, with Anders, Varric, Donnic and baby Wes beside them. Carver’s eyes drifted over the sea of faces until he saw the one he sought out, and found Felix staring right back at him. Their eyes met, and Carver felt that jolt in his chest again, shock and heat and exactly right.   
  
Felix smiled, and raised a hand to wave, and Carver was speechless. He felt like a fist had hit him directly in the chest, freezing his heart and his brain and every physical part of him but left his emotions running wild. Felix looked every inch the politician’s son: groomed, dressed, and polished like a gemstone on a beach of ordinary rocks, outshining everyone around him until Carver was blinded. His suit looked like power and money, a deep burgundy with gold cufflinks and a dark shirt underneath, and Carver would never have thought that such a combination would look as good.   
  
Felix smiled, and Carver was lost. His heart pounded in his chest, accelerating and sending blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to anything except his own thoughts. Felix’s eyes danced as they watched him, but the rest of his face conveyed polite interest. It felt like a secret message, one meant only for Carver, like Carver was _special_ and Felix wanted him to know that.   
  
No, it wasn’t like he had been punched in the gut. Carver had been hit by a truck, a cannonball, something massive and wrecking. He knew Felix was attractive, that had never been in doubt, but to see him in formalwear was somehow different. Carver wondered how many pieces he wore, and how difficult it would be to strip him out of those clothes, and—   
  
Applause finally spurred him from his reverie, and he looked back at the altar to see Bethany and Sebastian lean in to kiss. Their hands clasped together with ribbon and fingers, and Carver felt elation wash over him. They were happy, he was happy, their friends and family were happy, and everything in the world felt right and good.   
  
The couple lead the group down the aisle towards the tents along the water that would hold the reception. Carver followed, falling into step beside Fenris, and the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen came behind them.   
  
He snuck one last look at Felix as he passed, and Felix winked. Carver grinned and averted his eyes, knowing he would embarrass himself further if he kept staring at the man.

 

\--

 

  
  
Carver felt drunk. This wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, but he’d never felt drunk without imbibing enough alcohol to kill a small animal before. He’d had one glass of champagne for his (definitely _not_ Maid of Honor, no matter what Garrett said) “Brother toast” for the bride and groom, but the atmosphere was infectious.  
  
Giddy and bubbly and ecstatic. That’s how he felt in this moment, and he couldn’t think of anything better than watching his sister dance with her new husband, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling like he hadn’t seen in years. They moved in slow circles to the first dance music, something he vaguely recognized but couldn’t put a name to, neither looking away from the other’s face during the entire dance.   
  
Carver didn’t realize how big he was smiling until Felix grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Carver looked over to where Felix sat beside him, both of them at the main family table, and suddenly, he could think of something better. Carver imagined his own wedding day: his mother crying, his brother brooding, his sister probably also crying, and his new husband beaming at him the way Sebastian beamed at Bethany. He tried to shut down the train of thought before he got carried away, but that train left the station; he couldn’t help seeing Felix in a different tuxedo, hair a little longer and stubble peppered with a couple of white hairs, smiling up at him with nothing but joy in his face. He’d never really thought about marriage before, considering his relationship history, but maybe…  
  
Carver swallowed and squeezed Felix’s hand back. “Having fun?” Carver’s voice felt scratchy through unshed tears.   
  
Felix nodded, never taking his eyes off Carver’s. “Absolutely.”  
  
Carver was saved from an embarrassing display by one of the musicians announcing the next dance, where Carver was expected to show off his two left feet. He lifted Felix’s hand to his lips, pressing a brief kiss to the back of it before letting go and striding out to the dance floor. He didn’t look back, he couldn’t have without some unwanted emotions leaking out.  
  
Bethany looked less pristine than she had this morning, sweat beading along her hairline and skin shiny after a few hours of laughing and eating and drinking, but she was no less beautiful or blissful. Carver bent over her hand and swept her up as the next song began to play. Sebastian did the same for Leandra beside them, and their assorted siblings took to the floor as well with their dates or more amenable bridesmaids.   
  
Isabela sent Carver a wink from over Tristan’s shoulder. Carver rolled his eyes. He wondered if Tristan knew what he was getting into.  
  
“How are you doing, brother?” Bethany looked up at him, eyes tired but full of life.  
  
“Just great, sis, but I think I should be asking you that question.” He spun her around along with the music, as he had learned at their forced dance lessons.   
  
Bethany laughed. “I am so happy. Just, so. I think there should be other words for how I feel, but all I can think is happy.” She looked over at where her husband, somehow looking dashing and gallant with their drunken mess of a mother, and her eyes softened.   
  
Carver felt his throat tighten as they moved through a few more paces.   
  
“How’s Felix?” He was brought back to reality with her words, her face less ecstatic and more mischievous, and Carver held back a pained groan.  
  
“Fine. He’s fine. Things are fine.”  
  
Bethany rolled her eyes, then looked out into the crowd presumably at where his date sat. “You’ve hardly been able to look away from him, Carver. Have you told him how you feel?”  
  
Carver missed a step and stumbled, but Bethany pulled him right back up. “Uh. Right. About that.”  
  
She sighed. “You have to say _something_. He’s watching you just the same right now. You can’t just ignore it and then pine once this is over.”  
  
 _Once this is over._ Her words rang in his mind, and he could just see it. Standing at the train station in Denerim, saying goodbye forever.   
  
They were quiet until Carver released Bethany as the music ended, pulling her into a tight hug before she sailed back into Sebastian’s arms.   
  
The musicians started another upbeat song and Carver felt people flood the dance floor around him. He felt adrift, awash at sea without mooring, teetering between elation in the moment and fear for the future, and he stood still for a long moment, just watching happy couples smile at each other and the new bride and groom.  
  
A few guests came to congratulate him, which didn’t make any sense since it wasn’t him getting married today, but Bethany had enough well-wishers surrounding her so he must have been the next best thing.   
  
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said behind him. “Look at you, all grown up, with a boyfriend no less.”   
  
Carver felt a smile break out on his face as he turned to see his childhood friend. “Peaches!” He grabbed her in an embrace, lifted her from the ground and twirled her in a circle. “You made it!”   
  
She laughed and swatted at his head. “Put me down you beast!” He obeyed and looked down at her. The years had been good to Phera Barson, called Peaches because of her egregious given name, her amber skin smooth and unwrinkled, golden hair still long and lustrous, figure thick and healthy. Her hand lingered on his bicep and she squeezed. “You certainly grew up, didn’t you, little Hawke?”   
  
Carver flexed and smirked, and she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a swoon. “I did, are you jealous?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Jealous of the boy whose skinny ass I’ve seen covered in red ant bites because he accidentally sat down in a colony thinking it was just a dirt hill? I don’t think so.”   
  
Carver felt his cheeks redden at the memory. “Right, so, let’s never speak of this again.”   
  
Peaches laughed, a brassy full-bodied sound, and drew him to sit at a table nearby, and plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. They watched the dancers and caught up with each others’ lives for a long while, Carver learning about her husband and kid back in Lothering, her new business, and trading a few less embarrassing stories about their shared childhood.   
  
Apropos of nothing, she said, “So, tell me about your beau.” She set her chin on her hand and watched him with her piercing hazel eyes.   
  
Carver took a long gulp of his drink and tried not to look over to where Felix sat. “I, uh. How did you know?”   
  
Peaches rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? You got all gooey-faced at the ceremony, staring directly at him like you were going to fall on your face from your boner, and then you haven’t stopped smiling and laughing at him at dinner. You think I don’t know when you have a crush? I’ve seen you like this before.”  
  
Carver rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Peaches had indeed seen this before, when he found himself crushing on the Templar initiates at the Chantry, and once the grizzled Knight Captain who tried to recruit him into the Order before his father stepped in. She’d also seen him at his worst, when he was still hiding from his mother’s expectations and full of teenage hormones. Garrett carried on with half the town’s teenage population, and his mother kept asking when Carver was going to get a girlfriend like _Garrett_ had, not knowing Garrett’s “girlfriends” were not always girls and not usually friends. Peaches had been his best friend in school, and agreed to pretend to date him for a few months in return for his chauffeuring services whenever she wanted to get out of the house.   
  
More than once, Carver had snuck out to pick her up and they’d drive to where the stars shined brightest in the woods near the river. He had laid a blanket down in his truck bed and they’d point out constellations and name them with the dirtiest things they could think of. Leandra caught him more than once, but let him off with a ‘boys will be boys,’ thinking the encounters were much more romantic than they actually were.   
  
Now, Peaches looked at him with that same assessing gaze, the one that saw through any lie Carver tried to tell, and never judged him for being himself.   
  
“We’re not actually dating. It’s, um. Pretty similar to what you and I were doing, back then.”  
  
She hummed and took a delicate sip of her champagne. “But?” she prompted.  
  
“But, what? But, nothing.” He squirmed, tried not to drink the rest of his champagne in one big gulp.  
  
Peaches rolled her eyes. “Really, Carver. You’re smitten. It’s so obvious, which I suppose is why this charade is working a lot better than ours.” Carver shifted in his seat. “So if you’re into him, and he’s clearly into you, what’s the problem?”  
  
Carver sighed and leaned in toward her, to keep their voices down. “It’s all fake, and. I might, uh. I might feel some things.” She said nothing, so he went on to fill the silence. “And I know it’s not real, and he has a life in Tevinter, so it’ll end tomorrow when he goes back there and I go back to Denerim.”  
  
“What if it is?”   
  
“Is what?”   
  
“Is real, you buffoon. From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t look fake to me. He’s been watching you through the ceremony and the toast, and especially since you came and sat down with me, he’s got this narrow-eyed glare going on. It’s a little intimidating. I’m impressed.” She grinned and waggled her fingers at a point behind him.   
  
Carver’s head whipped around to look, and he caught Felix’s stare. Felix’s face softened as he locked eyes with Carver. His smile seemed more distant, more polite than he expected. Carver raised his hand in a returning wave, and a smile covered his own face.   
  
He turned back to Peaches, who promptly rolled her eyes and gagged. “You two are giving me cavities. Just go tell him. I think you’ll be surprised.”  
  
Carver thought about it for a moment, and something tugged at his heart. Was Felix really feeling something for him? Bethany said so, and now Peaches agreed, and he trusted them more than anyone in his life. Would confessing his feelings really be so bad?  
  
His mother interrupted his introspection. “Oh, Peaches, it’s good to see you!” Leandra pulled Peaches into a hug, and Peaches gave Carver a _look_ over her shoulder. He held back a snicker. “How have you been, dear?”   
  
“Things have been well, Mrs. Hawke. I just opened my own business, a—“  
  
“That sounds lovely,” Leandra interrupted. “I’m so glad to see you and Carver getting reacquainted. You were so cute together in Lothering, why ever did you break up?”  
  
Carver and Peaches locked eyes, both holding in gales of laughter. When they dated, Leandra’s vitriol toward the girl had been the stuff of legend: Peaches was too fast for her baby boy, Peaches was inappropriate and vulgar for her innocent son, Peaches dyed her hair which meant she was obviously a hussy. Now, ten years later, Leandra acted like Peaches was the daughter she never had. Carver gritted his teeth. “Mother, it was just—“  
  
“Carver, why don’t you take her out again? You’d want to go out with Carver again, wouldn’t you dear? He’s grown up into such a fine young man.” Leandra beamed up at him and pinched his cheek, and Carver wanted to crawl into a hole far, far away.   
  
“Mum, I’m with Felix, you met him yesterday, can’t you just—“  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Hawke, Carver has been telling me all about Felix, going on and on about how wonderful his boyfriend is.”  
  
Leandra looked dismayed for a moment, but she launched right back into a story about the “good old days.” Peaches listened for a moment, her face losing its politeness every second, before excusing herself. She ignored Carver’s _save me_ eyes, and Carver was stuck listening to his mother for a few more minutes. He nodded and murmured agreements like the dutiful son he was.  
  
Felix came up behind him, set a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “Please excuse my interruption, Leandra, but I’d like to ask your son to dance.”  
  
That familiar flood washed over him, feelings and goopy emotions that made him sappy. Not weak, but. Defenseless, vulnerable.   
  
“Oh, aren’t you precious, of course you can,” Leandra said.  
  
Carver swallowed and nodded, and let Felix lead him out. Carver hoped his hand wasn’t too sweaty, that he wouldn’t fall on his face as soon as they started dancing. He certainly hadn’t been this anxious about dancing when he was with Bethany, and that was when everyone was staring at him. Why was he tense now?  
  
Felix, as expected, danced like he was born to it. Even Carver’s ungainly attempts were glossed over and smoothed out, and he felt almost graceful in Felix’s arms.  
  
Carver didn’t know what to say. He wanted to be charming and witty, to win Felix over while they danced, like something in one of Bethany’s dumb romance movies. Maybe he should have watched more of them so he’d be prepared now. If Felix noticed his awkward thoughts, he said nothing of them.   
  
This would be a good time to confess his feelings, Carver realized distantly. The romance of the moment, the music, the low light inside the tent, the other couples around them exuding marital bliss. He could do it, he could just say _Felix, the last couple of days have been amazing, and I think we should see where this goes, I want to date you._  
  
He opened his mouth to say it, but the words stuck in his throat. Felix looked up at him inquisitively, and Carver froze.  
  
“I like you,” he blurted out. _Maker’s balls_ , that’s not what he wanted to say.  
  
Felix blinked up at him. “I like you too, Carver,” he said lightly. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with your family this weekend.”  
  
Carver let out his breath. “Not, not like that, Felix. I, um.” Why were words so _hard_? His hand tightened where it held Felix’s, and Felix’s eyes darted to it. “I _like_ you. I really— You’re so nice, and smart, and good with words, and hot, and I just—“   
  
Felix’s eyebrows peaked, tilted up in an expression of confusion and vulnerability, and Carver tripped over his own feet again. Felix righted him, and when Carver looked back up, there was a little smile on his face. Carver couldn’t read it, but surely it meant _something_.   
  
“I like you. A lot. And, well. That’s all.” Carver shut his mouth to keep himself from rambling.  
  
Felix stared into his eyes for another moment as they spun around the dance floor. Carver knew there were people around them, but he couldn’t see or hear them. All that existed in this moment were Felix and him, and that was the way he wanted it to be.   
  
“Carver,” Felix started quietly, “I like you too. This has been just wonderful, but, I—“   
  
Carver knew that tone of voice. The _I’m trying to let you down easy_ voice, and he really should have known better.   
  
The music ended, and the crowd applauded politely. Carver tried to breathe. He let Felix go.   
  
“I need to, uh, take a breath,” he said, and darted from the tent. His thoughts circled around in his head, words he didn’t want to say and feelings he didn’t need right now roiling and repeating, as he walked between the tables to the entrance of the tent, across the lawn.  
  
He stood at the edge of the lake and looked out over the water, and exhaled. The light breeze made the faintest ripples across the surface, and the happy chatter of the party behind him finally gave him space to breathe. He inhaled deeply, the smell of grass and fresh water replacing the scent that Carver had come to identify just as _Felix_ that had affected him so deeply.  
  
His hands slipped into his pockets and he just stared into space for a few minutes.   
  
“Carver?” Felix’s voice, despite the softness, startled Carver. He turned to see Felix making his way towards him, each step measured and tentative.   
  
“Hey.”   
  
Felix stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the water alongside him. They were quiet for a few moments, and Carver felt a vice grip around his heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to fall for this guy, it was supposed to all be fake, just a show for Garrett and Mum, to keep them off his back for a while. And now…  
  
“Carver,” Felix said. His name sounded so right, and Carver wanted nothing more than to hear Felix say it again and again. But he had heard the tone in Felix’s voice, he knew something bad was coming, and he didn’t want that. He should have just kept his big dumb mouth shut.  
  
Carver realized his eyes had drifted to his feet, and the slump in his shoulders told Felix more than his words could. When he looked over, Felix was already staring at him. His eyes were so dark, endless and all-encompassing, like they could see right into the very heart of him. Carver swallowed and felt his heart start pounding.  
  
“Fee, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just—“  
  
“No, Carver, it’s not like that. I wanted to tell you—“  
  
“You!” Garrett’s shout broke through the moment, and both men turned to see the man stalking across the lawn toward them. Garrett’s cheeks were angry red, his tie missing and top button of his tuxedo undone, and the snarl on his mouth ready to eviscerate. “Get the hell away from my brother!” He shoved at Felix’s shoulder, and Felix stumbled back, shock apparent on his face.   
  
“What the fuck, Garrett!” Carver shoved him right back, and to his surprise, Garrett just grabbed his arms to hold Carver still instead of retaliating. “What are you doing! You can’t just—“  
  
“I knew it, I knew he was a filthy snake! Fucking Vint,” he spat.   
  
The pit of Carver’s belly twisted, and not in the good way it had at Felix’s appearance, but in a terrible, painful way. “What— What are you talking about?” He shook off Garrett’s grip, and suddenly felt adrift again.  
  
Garrett pushed him to the side and stared at Felix, eyes hard and body language tense. “How long have you been leading him on, hm? The whole time you’ve been dating? Does he know?”  
  
Carver looked at Felix for the first time, and the twist in his belly turned into a full-blown cramp. Felix’s face was ashen, a greenish tinge under his golden complexion and Carver saw his throat work. “You don’t understand,” Felix said, but it was weak.   
  
“What’s happening?” Carver was ignored.   
  
Garrett held up his phone in Felix’s face, waving it around too much for any of them to actually read what was on the screen, but Felix swallowed and his hand reached weakly to grab it. “It’s not—“  
  
Garrett thrust the phone into Carver’s hand. Carver fumbled, shaky hands almost dropping the phone, and had to blink a few times once he held it up in order to read it.   
  
_Felix Alexius and Livia Herathinos Engaged!_   
  
A photograph followed the headline, showing Felix and a stunning woman posing together on a red carpet looking like fashion models, all high cheekbones and flawless clothing and perfect makeup.   
  
_Two of the nobility’s hottest young people are off the market. Tevinter’s most eligible heiress was seen wearing a Madame de Fer diamond engagement ring at last night’s Charity Gala. Alexius and Herathinos have been linked for months, but no official confirmation came until they appeared together on the red carpet, both looking ready to start the next power dynasty in Tevinter. Sources say they’ve been betrothed for years, only now making their commitment public and preparing for a wedding in the spring to join two of the oldest houses in the Magisterium._   
  
Carver stared at the photograph until his eyes started to cross. Photo-Felix didn’t look particularly happy there, just resigned. Photo-Felix had his arm around the woman’s waist and her hand rested on his shoulder, but they stood a few inches away, bodies not touching any more than they needed to. He couldn’t look up at real Felix.  
  
The strength left his arm and Garrett took the phone from his hand before it fell from his loose fingers. Carver kept staring at his empty hand.  
  
“Carver,” Felix said, but Garrett cut him off with a snarl.   
  
“No, shut up. He doesn’t need anything else from you.”  
  
“Garrett, you shut up.” Carver felt like he wasn’t in his body, like he was watching from a very far distance. “Can you just give us a minute?” He looked at his brother, and saw genuine concern in his eyes. It was weird.   
  
Garrett hesitated, but Carver pushed him on the shoulder. “Go back, before Bethany knows we’re all gone.” Garrett sent Felix one last venomous look before heading back to the reception. Fenris and Varric stood at the mouth of the tent, watching the confrontation with their arms folded in front of them like bouncers. Were they there for support? Protection? To throw Felix bodily from the grounds if this went badly?   
  
Felix said nothing, but his hands twisted in front of him. Carver realized he’d never seen Felix nervous before, his regal demeanor replaced by anxiety. It made every part of this even more strange.  
  
Carver heard blood rushing in his ears and felt like every nerve in his body was on fire.   
  
“Carver?”   
  
Carver shook his head, trying to clear the haze. “It’s… it’s fine, Felix. You didn’t have to tell me. Your life back there is your life. This is only for the weekend, right? You have to go back home eventually. I just…” _I thought we had more, I thought you felt something, I didn’t know I was just a diversion before your_ fucking _wedding._   
  
Felix paused before speaking. “It’s not like that. I—“ His sentences were choppy, stilted in a way that made this whole encounter even more surreal. “In Tevinter, arranged marriages amongst the nobility are expected. Livia’s family,” Carver flinched at her name, and he scolded himself for the obvious tell, “are another family like mine. I’ve known her for years, as our parents arranged this when we were children. We’ve known this would happen, so I’ve only ever had flings before, with a clear expiration date and, well. I didn’t think… I never expected… This is something I have to do. For the good of the family.”  
  
Carver nodded. He felt numb. Like when he was ten and he had fallen into the frozen lake near his childhood home in Lothering. He had been playing on the ice with Bethany, and he walked out too far. It cracked, and the freezing water swallowed him up, trapping him beneath the ice for what felt like an eternity. Only Bethany’s newly-manifested magic had saved him, a fireball cracking the ice and she dragged him out until they were both soaking wet and shivering.  
  
This felt like that, like drowning with icy needles prickling every inch of him inside and out. But worse.   
  
He shrugged. “Right. The family.” He gritted his teeth, turned his head away from Felix, looking out over the serene water. He replaced his hands in his pockets, clenching them until he felt his short nails digging into his palms.  
  
“Carver, you have to know,” Felix said, and his voice broke on the last word. “This thing, between us, I feel it too, it’s—“  
  
Carver choked and shook his head, cutting off whatever Felix was about to say. “Please, don’t. Just, don’t.” He didn’t know if he could hear the words he had wanted so desperately not even ten minutes ago, didn’t want a confirmation that something was between them, because that meant Carver had fucked up once again. He’d gotten in over his head, developed feelings where he shouldn’t have, and feelings never ended well for him.  
  
He walked back to the tent, each step heavy, like there were stones weighing him down, the growing distance agony in his chest. Felix said nothing as Carver walked away, didn’t move from his spot at the lake. Carver didn’t look back.   
  
Garrett stood just outside the entrance, Fenris and Varric nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Can I stay with you guys tonight?” Carver mumbled. He felt exhausted, wrung out and torn apart.  
  
Garrett hesitated. “In our room? With me and Fen?” Carver lifted his head to meet his brother’s eyes, and whatever showed on his face seemed to make the decision. “Yeah, little brother. You can.”  
  
Carver didn’t look back as he re-entered the reception festivities, boisterous laughing and good cheer that earlier seemed so pleasant, a physical manifestation of his own internal good cheer, now grated on his nerves. How could everyone else still be so happy when his whole world seemed wrecked?  
  
Peaches appeared out of the crowd and as she looked up into his face, he couldn’t hide the misery that had taken root. She took his hand and led him away. Carver followed, unable to do much anything else.


	5. sunday / monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning after, and a week later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first, I am so sorry for the wait. I didn't know how to resolve the story after the last chapter and I was like well what if I draw out the angst, so much angst, then it kind of grew out of control. so now it's looking to be about twice as long as I anticipated, yay? I needed to outline and all that jazz which is what took this chapter forever, sorry about that. also, writing is hard.
> 
> second, get in losers, we're going to tevinter.
> 
> third, additional pairings that will appear in the next chapters: cullen/dorian, felix/livia herathinos, leliana/tabris, josephine/adaar, cassandra/varric, mae/thorold, carver/rilienus.

Carver took a deep breath as he looked at the door. His mouth was dry, hands clammy, hangover from the post-reception bender raging in his head. His shoulder ached from where he slept badly on his brother’s hotel room floor. At least he had slept the night, unsurprising but still appreciated after all the liquor Garrett and Varric had poured down his throat. But now, in the morning light, everything seemed worse somehow.  
  
He must have looked worse than he thought, as no one spoke to him on his walk back to his own room. Wynne, the front desk receptionist that had left all the unwanted romantic gifts in the room, had frowned as he had passed her, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with her judgment or questions. He kept his head down and put one foot in front of the other, deliberately not thinking about what he would find when he got back to the room.  
  
He knocked twice, but he heard nothing from inside. The silence sat badly with him, a gaping void stretching out for endless seconds. He stuck his key in the lock, and swung open the door.  
  
The room was empty. The bed was made, the dresser and nightstand surfaces clean of clutter, all the lights off. Carver’s suitcase and belongings were as he left it: strewn across the floor in the corner, a messy pile of chaos in the otherwise pristine room. Except for Carver’s things, the room appeared wholly unoccupied.   
  
The ceramic platter and silver bucket that strawberries and champagne had appeared in were left on the dresser, empty of their contents, and he wondered if housekeeping had taken them or Felix had. They had been too occupied to enjoy them when they were delivered, _was it only the day before?_ Carver thought, and glanced away to survey the rest of the room.  
  
Felix’s things were gone. The closet doors were closed, but Carver imagined it was as empty as the rest of the place.   
  
Carver somehow felt disappointed, a hollow void just below his ribs. It wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t really want to see Felix, but to leave without a word…  
  
He placed the bag with his sweaty tuxedo on the bed and scrubbed his hands down his face. He needed a shower. Carver started towards the bathroom, but a folded paper on the foot of the bed, almost but not entirely covered by the plastic formalwear bag he had just dropped, caught his eye.  
  
 _Carver_ , the outside said, written in an elegant scrawl. He hadn’t seen Felix’s handwriting before, yet somehow he recognized it. It seemed as fancy and structured as the rest of him, bold curving lines of ink, not hastily written, but thoughtfully considered. He rubbed one thumb over his name, then flinched as he realized he spent far too long staring at the paper.   
  
He opened it.  
  
 _Carver,_  
  
 _I know there is no real way for me to apologize for deceiving you this weekend, but I must try._  
  
 _I am so sorry._  
  
 _My only intention was to help you avoid uncomfortable situations with your family, to enjoy the happy atmosphere, and to spend a weekend without worrying about my responsibilities at home. I never meant to lie about my situation, and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. It seems I have failed._  
  
 _I owe you an explanation. As I told you, my arrangement in Tevinter happened years ago. It’s not unusual there to betrothe children to unite families, especially ones with lineage like ours. She’s a lovely woman, and I very much enjoy her company. Even if we’re not in love, we’ll be happy together._  
  
 _I’ve grown up with this engagement, and I never expected anything other than marrying the woman my parents wanted me to. They’ve only ever put my well-being above everything, and I trust them. I know you understand such devotion to your family, even if you express it differently. Just as my father trains me and expects me to follow in his footsteps, I trust him to do what is right for me. It’s never been a question to do what he asks, because I know it’s for the good of the family. I’ve never had reason to question it, at least until now._  
  
 _Know that everything I said, everything I felt and did, all of it was real. I think you are a remarkable person, Carver Hawke, and while I cannot justify my misdeeds, I have tried to be true with you. Getting to know you has been more than anything I expected, and I only wish we had truly done so earlier, before we had to pretend, when we could have been friends. You are an extraordinary person, and I know you will find a better person than me to tell you that._  
  
 _I will be on the first train back to Denerim. I know I am a coward not to apologize in person, but this seemed less painful for the both of us.  Please give your sister my best wishes for a happy union._  
  
 _I am sorry, Carver._  
  
 _Yours,_  
  
 _Felix_  
  
Carver blinked rapidly until the burning behind his eyes stopped. He replaced the note on the bed where he found it, gently, delicately, and went into the shower.   
  
He let the scalding water slide over him. He did not think about anything.  
  
He stared at himself in the mirror. Dark circles under puffy lidded eyes, wan and waxy with dehydration. No wonder Felix was marrying a gorgeous Tevinter heiress, tall and thin and hot. Who in their right mind would choose _this_ over _that_?

_For the good of the family._ Of course a beautiful woman who could give him beautiful Tevinter babies would be better for the family than a poor Fereldan mechanic, with no lineage, no status, nothing to offer.   
  
He scrolled through his phone. No messages, no calls.   
  
He typed out a quick text to Cullen. _U didn’t tell me he ws engaged_  
  
Carver started throwing clothes into his duffle, a haphazard mess that Leandra would berate him for, were she here. A few minutes later, he heard his phone chime with an incoming text.  
  
 _Cullen: what?? engaged??_  
  
Carver stared at for a long moment before setting it back down. He kept packing, not folding or rolling or doing anything that he knew he should, stuffing as much junk as would fit into the bag. Just before he finished, his phone went off again.   
  
_Cullen: Dorian told me. Felix doesn’t talk about it, Dorian didn’t think the news would come out so soon. Did he tell you about it?_  
  
 _Cullen: Saw pictures of the wedding on Beth’s Instagram, did you have a good time?_   
  
Carver didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell Cullen, oh I accidentally slept with and caught feelings for a man I barely know who was secretly engaged to someone else, and now I’m a miserable bastard over nothing. That wouldn’t be a pretty text message.   
  
He turned off the screen and finished packing.

 

\--

 

After that, Carver tried to move on. He couldn’t ignore Bethany’s texts, but he ignored just about everyone else’s. One good thing about living in Denerim while everyone else lived back in Kirkwall, and now Starkhaven where Bethany would live in a few weeks, was that they couldn’t see his misery over the phone, didn’t have to be face-to-face when he described his fake break-up.   
  
Garrett sent a couple of text messages, confirming that Carver really didn’t want Garrett to go kill Felix, as he had so helpfully offered at the wedding. Carver appreciated the gesture, but no, thank you. Carver would be fine. Eventually.   
  
He managed to avoid most people, throwing himself into work at the shop with late nights and mind-numbing video games in his off-duty hours, until one week had passed after the wedding. It was Monday, and all the things at the shop that built up over the weekend needed to be dealt with. Carver didn’t mind staying late at work, enjoying the physicality and keeping his mind occupied.   
  
His reprieve from talking or thinking about anything other than work or his next meal lasted until Cullen butted in, showing up at the shop unannounced. Carver glanced up at the clock as he wiped his greasy hands off on a towel. 6:30; the shop had been closed for an hour, and yet Carver hadn’t planned on leaving for a while yet. Cullen stood in the front office like a bulwark, arms folded, wearing his aviators and a grimace.   
  
“Come to dinner,” he said, sounding more like an order than a request, the glint in his eye telling Carver that ‘no’ was an unacceptable answer. Carver sighed, knowing any resistance would be met with a brick wall, and went to wash up properly.  
  
At Cullen’s apartment, Carver tried not to be too sullen as he pushed the vegetables around his plate, but he could feel Cullen and Dorian sending each other glances over his head.   
  
He didn’t appreciate the scruitny, but knew it was well-meaning at least.  
  
Cullen had watched out for him since they met. Carver, baby faced and hopeful and fresh out of recruitment, had flown through basic training like he was made for it. Cullen had been an officer with the Templar division, at that time overseeing the mages’ training for their own company. After Carver’s first deployment at the Battle of Ostagar where he witnessed the complete decimation of his friends, brothers, the most elite soldiers that he had idolized, Carver came back a different person. Cullen had noticed the change and took an interest in him, keeping him from succumbing to the worst of his depression.  
  
After the Blight, Carver chose to be discharged rather than promoted, but Cullen kept moving up in the ranks until he found himself a Commander. He had retired early and now spent most of his time volunteering at the VA with other veterans like himself. Cullen kept in touch, as much for Carver’s sake as his own.   
  
Dorian cleared his throat and Carver looked up. “So, I hear you’ve been working a lot at the shop,” Dorian began. It was neutral and bland, throwing Carver off.  
  
He paused. “Yeah, I have. It’s been, uh. Busy.” Dorian’s single raised eyebrow told Carver he didn’t believe him for a second, but Dorian didn’t challenge him on the blatant lie.  
  
Carver liked him, he really did, but sometimes he was just so… Tevinter. The narrow look Dorian gave him, the delicate way he held his glass like an extension of his arm, his skill with words and manipulation. Carver knew him well enough to realize these minor things were affectations developed from a life of masking real feelings rather than signals of his dislike, but at the moment, they grated on his nerves only because of the similarities to other things, people, he wasn’t going to think about.   
  
Dorian looked at him expectantly, and Carver fidgeted in his seat.  
  
When it became clear Carver had nothing more to say on the subject, Dorian tried a different topic. “I hear the wedding was nice,”  
  
“Uh, yeah. Bethy was happy.”  
  
“I imagine so. A Prince of Starkhaven is quite a catch.” Dorian winked at Cullen and Carver looked away. “Did you and F—“ Carver heard a thump from under the table, and Dorian shot a dark look at Cullen.   
  
From the way they clearly skirted around the topic, Carver could only assume Felix told Dorian about the blow-up at the reception. Carver didn’t know if he felt better or worse for this, since they clearly talked about him. He wanted desperately to know what Felix said, how he felt about all of it, what he thought of Carver after everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.  
  
Dorian sighed and set down his fork. “There are really only so many awkward pleasantries I can take tonight, and I think I’m about done.” Carver ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat in shame and his insides twist at his less than pleasant behavior tonight.  “Cullen, would you like to tell Carver why you dragged him over here since he clearly wants to be anywhere else?”  
  
Carver caught the end of a significant Look shared between them, complete with a less than subtle head-jerk and darting eyes, before Cullen finally turned to Carver.  
  
“We’re engaged.”  
  
“Wow!” Carver’s eyebrows lifted, and the words sunk in. He grinned, and reached over to clap Cullen on the shoulder. “Congratulations, guys.”  
  
Fond smiles replaced the more suspicious non-verbal conversation, and Dorian reached up to lace his fingers through Cullen’s. A little hook tugged in Carver’s belly, like his heart was a fish caught on a line, but he pushed it down.   
  
“Yes, Cullen was marvelously romantic. Candles, music, dinner at Fort Drakon with a view of the city. It was everything one dreams of in a proposal from a Fereldan farmboy.” Cullen rolled his eyes and his fingers tightened where they clasped Dorian’s.   
  
“When’s the lucky day?”  
  
Cullen glanced at Carver through the side of his eye before back to Dorian. “Er, well.”  
  
“We’ll have it in Qarinus at my parents’ estate.” Dorian gestured with his hand, something regal and disinterested that Carver couldn’t quite read. “My mother wouldn’t take no for an answer, and since I won’t marry her choice in a partner, I must follow their wishes in showing off the might of the Pavus family for all of high society to see.”  
  
Carver blinked. “A society wedding. In… Tevinter.”   
  
“At the very least, it will keep her off my back for a few years, until she starts asking for grandchildren. She doesn’t even like children, but that’s neither here nor there.” Dorian rolled his eyes and Cullen smirked at him, before his expression smoothed into one more serious.  
  
“I want to ask you to be one of my groomsmen,” Cullen said.   
  
Carver froze. “You want me to go to Tevinter to be in your wedding? Me?”   
  
“Of course. You’re one of my closest friends, and I’d like you to be there.”  
  
“I’m honored,” he said helplessly. Carver knew what he wanted to ask, the name sat just there at the tip of his tongue. He bit down on it. “Will— Who else will be there? In the wedding party, I mean. Mia and all them?”  
  
Cullen and Dorian exchanged glances again.   
  
“Yes,” Cullen said slowly, drawing the words out, clearly ready to impart some unwanted knowledge. “My siblings. Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, Rylen. And… Felix will be there.”   
  
Carver nodded. He expected that, but it still hit him in the chest, a lead weight sinking the happiness at seeing his friends married into misery of loneliness. He hadn’t heard anything from Felix since reading his note in Lake Calenhad. After a week, the pain of rejection still stung, and his name brought back all the feelings he’d been pushing down up until then.   
  
“He’s to be my best man,” Dorian said, softer than Carver would have expected. “Will you be alright with that?”  
  
Carver clenched his jaw. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He stared at the wall just above Cullen’s shoulder. The silence from the table expressed more than words could. Carver fidgeted in his seat.  
  
Dorian grimaced. “It will be a society affair, so there will be nobility and socialites, press and paparazzi. Felix’s parents will also attend; I worked for a long time with Gereon on the basics of what I’m doing now, and of course Felix will bring Livia.”  
  
Carver froze. He had expected Felix, even as much as he wanted to ignore it he knew as Dorian’s best friend, that was understandable. But, Felix’s fiancee. _Even if we’re not in love, we’ll be happy together._ Felix’s words echoed in Carver’s head. Did Carver really want to see them being happy together?   
  
Cullen spoke, and Carver’s eyes returned to the point just above his shoulder. “My sister and her children will be there, and my other siblings, the others will bring their partners, so you won’t be alone.”  
  
Carver held back a derisive snort. _So you won’t be alone._ Nevermind the fact that each of those people had their own partner, Carver wouldn’t be alone. He’d be a solitary Fereldan clownfish in the sea of Tevinter piranahs, watching the man he— the man he spent the weekend with, that’s all they were he reminded himself, with a beautiful heiress and all his friends happy and in love.  
  
“Cullen…” Carver started, hearing the pleading edge in his own voice.  
  
“Please, Carver,” and something in his tone made Carver pause. “Tevinter is… different. They don’t accept gay men the way they do here, and it’s going to be hard. We’ll have friends, but. I need you at my back.”   
  
Carver looked into Cullen’s face, saw a shadow of fear, the same kind of loneliness that Carver himself felt in that moment, and he knew he understood part of what Cullen felt. Carver hesitated.  
  
 _What would Bethany say?_ Carver looked at his plate, no longer seeing dinner. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
Cullen nodded, a grim smile on his face, and went back to eating. Dorian looked at him for a moment longer before thankfully changing the subject, talking about how atrocious Tevinter fashion was this season, and his mother needed far too much time to prepare, so they’d wait for next year for the ceremony.  
  
In his own driveway, Carver stared at his phone for a long moment. Bethany was on her honeymoon, and he didn’t want to call and interrupt. Did he have any right to disrupt her for his own relationship issues?   
  
Then again, if he kept something like this from her for too long, the consequences would be even worse.  
  
 _Carver: r u up? Need 2 tlk_  
  
He sent the text and stared at his phone for no more than thirty seconds, sitting in the calm darkness of his truck, before it began to ring. Bethany’s face appeared on the screen, and he smirked at the photo. Just before he left Kirkwall, Bethany had taken him to an amusement park outside the city. They had found an old-fashioned photo booth that spat out four vertical pictures, and Carver had used the one where her tongue was stuck out and eyes screwed shut for her contact picture in his phone. It reminded him of happy times, of how silly his sister could be, and he felt the ghost of a smile on his lips.  
  
“Are you alright?” Her voice held just a hint of panic.  
  
“Yeah, course I am, don’t worry. Are you busy? I didn’t want to interrupt your romantic time with your new husband.”  
  
Bethany sighed, sounding every inch the happy satisfied wife, and Carver wrinkled his nose. Some things he just didn’t want to know about his sister. “It’s been just lovely, Carver, Antiva is so beautiful! We’ve been to the seaside, and the royal gardens, and our room overlooks the city.” She paused. “But, you didn’t call to ask me how my honeymoon has been. What’s wrong?”  
  
He put his face in one hand and groaned quietly. He hadn’t spoken about what happened between him and Felix in any kind of detail yet. He had texted Bethany with the bare bones of the events, but describing things in words was so much worse. The shame of falling for someone unavailable, the disgust with himself for not seeing it earlier, the heartbreak for maybe being in— for liking someone were just too much for him. Words were hard, especially when they came with unpleasant emotions.   
  
Somehow, it all came spilling out now. He told Bethany about the reception, about Garrett’s news, Felix’s note, the silence since then, and now Cullen’s announcement.   
  
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pressing his fingers into the bone beneath his eyebrows. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t go and watch him in Tevinter. Either he’s in love with this woman, and I have to see him all besotted and romantic, or he’s not and I’ll watch him unhappy and throwing himself into a huge mistake. I don’t… I can’t win, here.”  
  
“Carver,” she said gently, and he knew what she was going to say. “You have to be there for Cullen. He’s your friend, and he wants you there, especially if he’s going into the viper’s nest for a week.” She was quiet for a moment. “Why don’t you call Felix? You still have his number, don’t you?”  
  
Carver thought about the entry in his contacts, the number of times his thumb hovered over the screen ready to start a text message before setting the phone down and walking away. His voice sounded like driving over gravel when he finally spoke. “I can’t do that.”  
  
Bethany let out a little sigh. “Alright, then. If you can’t talk to him, you can’t. But when you see Felix… It’s a year from now, right? That’s enough time for you to move on. Maybe it will give you the closure you need.”  
  
Carver swallowed thickly, squeezed his eyes shut against the burning behind them. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” He wished he had done this in person, for once wished he could see her face.   
  
Bethany sighed into the phone. “Brother, I wish I could be there with you. Think about it tonight, and call me tomorrow, okay?”  
  
He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I will. Love you, sis.”  
  
“Love you too, Carver.” The line clicked off. Carver sat in his truck and stared into the darkness outside for a long moment.


	6. wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carver arrives in Tevinter, sees some old friends and meets new people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had definitely not planned this chapter to take quite so long, but I was really struggling with the rest of the story. also I finished my last graduate classes and moved across the ocean, so there was a lot going on. sorry about that. 
> 
> now! I have it outlined and partly written, so maybe the rest of it won't take so long? probably. hopefully.

Carver pulled his bag from the trunk of the private car and hefted it onto his shoulder. The driver shut the lid after him and drove off, leaving Carver standing at the front doors to the Pavus Estate, intimidated and awed. He tasted sweat on his lips as it dripped off his face through his beard, and the dry air chapped his lips giving him no relief from the heat.  
  
He looked up, up, up, craned his neck to see the top of the “estate” that looked more like a palace than anything. The edifice was long and flat, three stories that appeared low by the stretch along the horizon. Square towers rose at each corner, topped by sharp points with rounded windows breaking up the flat surface. Intricate geometric designs decorated the facade, curving and swirling to draw the eye all the way across. The light color of the marble edifice was broken up by striations of darker stone, somehow making it look weightless and monumental, and Carver swallowed nervously in the display of wealth and power. Knowing Dorian came from this much money and he gave it up to move to Fereldan with Cullen put some things into perspective.  
  
A massive wooden door at the apex of the driveway opened and Cullen strode out, smiling widely with arms outstretched. “Carver! You made it!”  
  
Carver grinned and moved forward, embracing his friend when they were near enough. “Told you I would. Didn’t know we’d be in a bloody castle, though.”  
  
Cullen laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. From closer, Carver could see the weariness and stress in the tense lines of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes, obviously dealing with the new in-laws weighed on him more than Cullen had expected. “It was a surprise for me, too. At least no one has to pay for hotel rooms this time, right?”  
  
Carver laughed and they made their way into the palace. He wiped a hand over his face, grimy with sand and sweat, and he grimaced. He sighed as the cool air inside washed over him, the oppressive sunlight finally off his face.  
  
“Wow,” he said.  
  
“Yeah,” Cullen agreed.  
  
It looked more like a movie set for an expensive historical drama than a place someone actually lived. The entryway opened up into two curving staircases leading to the second floor, and windows underneath the tall ceiling let in light to give the foyer a bright and airy feel. The glass doors below the stairs opened into a green space beyond; this the only color he’d seen since arriving was dwarfed by the dark and neutral colors that seemed to dominate Tevinter decor.  
  
Carver followed Cullen up the stairs, the marble balustrade feeling smooth and polished under his hand. They turned at the landing, following a hallway that lacked the high windows, and the path became progressively darker as they walked on. They turned more than once, a labyrinthine path that Carver hoped he could remember. Torches lit the space between each identical doorway, and Carver felt a chill run up his spine.  
  
“This is where you’ll be.” Cullen opened one of the seemingly endless doors and led Carver inside.  
  
Carver guessed that this one guest room was larger than his entire apartment back in Denerim. The bed alone looked large enough to fit three of him, a four-poster in black stained wood with matching side tables, dresser, vanity, wardrobe, and an enormous gilt mirror. As they entered, the lamps came to life, and Carver only just managed to restrain his flinch.  
  
“Yeah, the magic takes a bit to get used to.” Cullen shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the room with an unimpressed eye.  
  
Carver walked over to the bed and dropped his duffle on the duvet, spreading his hand across the probably 10,000 thread count fabric. It felt like clouds under his fingers, like money woven into each thread and then wrapped in gold.  
  
“Andraste’s tits, this is…”  
  
“Opulent?” Cullen supplied.  
  
“Friggin’ huge,” Carver finished.  
  
“I’ll just let you clean up then. We’ll meet in the vestibule at seven thirty for drinks before dinner with the others who’ve arrived already. I’ll see you then.” Cullen clapped him on the shoulder and looked at the ground. “Glad you’re here,” he said, and left Carver to explore his room.  
  
Carver took a deep breath and examined the space. The room was dark except for the few lamps scattered across the space, but heavy drapes covered three floor-length windows along one side of the room. He untied the draws and pulled them open, and suddenly the room was bathed in golden light, giving Carver room to breathe again.  
  
A silver pitcher sat on the small table beneath the window, beside a bowl and fluffy hand towel. It was cold to the touch, and the water that came out was chilled. He noted the frost rune on the handle, the slices of cucumber and chunks of ice floating across the surface of the water, the weight and polish feeling like real silver in his hand. Bethany would love this. Which reminded him of his promise to text her as soon as he arrived.  
  
He checked his phone to see a text from Bethany waiting.  
  
_Beth: did you make it ok?_  
  
Carver snapped a few pictures and sent them through, unpacking a few things from his duffle as he waited for the response.  
  
_Beth: omg!!! what!!!_  
  
Carver felt nervous anticipation rise in his belly. Should he really even be here? This place seemed more fit for kings or aristocrats, not a mechanic like him. He shook his head, knowing the insecurity would be a liability in this place. Tevinters were ruthless, and they’d use his weakness as soon as they found it.  
  
He went into the connected bathroom and showered, shaved, put on some of his more expensive cologne (even that reminded him of how out of place he was, using a scent he bought in a department store on sale) and changed his clothes.  
  
He only got lost once on the way back to the front of the house, and called it a win.  
  
A small crowd of people stood already waiting in the vestibule below, and Carver scanned the group. He recognized Cullen and Dorian, arms around each others’ waists, Josephine and Herah, Cullen’s sister Mia holding a small child in her arms and her husband, their two other children darting between people, some people he didn’t know including an older couple with cold eyes and thinly veiled disdain on their faces, and _there_ —  
  
Carver missed a step and had to clutch the banister for support. He swallowed, tried to calm the way his ribs squeezed around his chest, and focused on his breathing, a challenge with the cloying scent of incense filling his lungs. He dragged his eyes away from where they had stuck, and watched his feet as he walked down the stairs.  
  
Unfortunately, his less than graceful entrance did not go unnoticed. The older couple stood at the foot of the stairs, in what Carver assumed was a receiving line of some kind. Carver joined the throng and waited, hands in his pockets, until he had a chance to greet the people who were probably Dorian’s parents.  
  
Halward radiated power and authority, his shoulders back and chin raised so that even though he was shorter than several of the guests, he looked down his nose at each of them. He had small eyes in a broad, rounded face, the small moustache above his thin lips just about the only resemblance Carver could see between the father and his son. Halward dipped his head in greeting. “Good evening, Serrah Hawke. Welcome to Qarinus.”  
  
Carver executed a jerky little bow, pulling back the hand he automatically extended for a handshake before realizing it wouldn’t be reciprocated, and cursed himself silently for not asking Dorian better questions about Tevinter customs. “Uh, thanks. It’s great to be here.”  
  
Dorian’s mother Aquinea had a much closer family resemblance. Long, rounded nose, high cheekbones, black hair pulled back into some kind of fancy updo. She made Carver feel like he was back in school, about to be upbraided by the no-nonsense headmistress. He tried not to fidget under her gaze. “Thank you for attending our son’s wedding. He’s spoken highly of you.”  
  
“Yeah, Dorian’s great. I’m glad uh. To be here.” _Shit, Carver. That was terrible_.  
  
Aquinea watched him for a moment before tilting her head. “Please, enjoy the aperitifs and we will go in to dinner momentarily.”  
  
Carver escaped with another bow, shaky relief washing over him at the introduction ending. Dorian appeared from somewhere, clapped him on the shoulder, and pushed a drink into his hand.  
  
“So, those were my parents. And you made it out alive! Good for you, I wasn’t entirely sure you would.”  
  
Carver choked on his drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and watched as Dorian’s eyebrow slowly inched its way up at the action. “Oh, right. Good point.”  
  
Dorian rolled his eyes, the line between fondness and exasperation wearing thin. “At any rate, Cullen’s people have congregated over there, and the rest of my mother’s side, because honestly she’s invited so many people to this thing, luckily most of the people here tonight are relatively close friends rather than the swaths of people she wanted to attend, they’re closer to the doors. Now, I must go find my groom before Great Aunt Severina Eats him alive.” Dorian swept away with a flourish, and Carver looked around the room, a little stunned and a lot overwhelmed.  
  
Carver fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. He wore what he thought was his best suit, but looking around the room, he felt like a fish out of water. The Tevinters looked like the height of fashion, even to Carver’s lack of awareness about trends. Most of the men wore long tunics that fell to their knees, with rounded collars and wide sleeves. Carver tugged at his coat jacket and realized linen was probably a much better idea with the heat and humidity than the wool he had brought. The women all wore floor-length dresses in a variety of styles, with long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves, some were cropped at the waist, but none were low cut like the style in Ferelden right now.  
  
Suddenly, the crowd parted, and Felix stood a few feet away, speaking to people Carver didn’t know.  
  
Carver forgot everything, felt transported into the day he first met Felix, standing on the train platform and worrying about meeting this stranger for a fake date. It felt like stepping into a warm sauna, like leaving the cool shade of the trees and walking into the early summer sunlight, warmth suffusing and spreading across his skin and through his body.  
  
Carver looked at him, greedily absorbing all the details he’d imagined but hadn’t seen in a year. His cheekbones were a little more hollow, hair shorter and stubble darker. He looked thin, but healthy. He laughed at something one of his companions said. The flame in his chest sparked, and lit, and Carver couldn’t breathe for a moment.  
  
A woman beside him caught his attention, slightly bored and clearly not listening to the conversation happening around her. As Carver looked at her, she glanced up directly into Carver’s eyes and he jerked back, averting his gaze. The warmth left, and Carver remembered everything, came back to himself crashing down like falling from a great height.  
  
From his quick glance, Livia Herathinos looked every inch as stunning and cold as he saw in her photographs. Carver was ashamed to admit how closely he’d followed the couple in the news, would deny on pain of death researching her and her family until he knew as much as he could glean from the internet.  
  
She was tall, taller than Felix even in the designer heels she wore, her dark hair sleek and glossy, falling in waves down her back, eyes icy blue and cold and shaded with smoky makeup, like an icicle falling through a stormcloud. The gold embroidery against the black fabric of her dress matched Felix’s tunic, linking them together visually and symbolically.  
  
No wonder Felix was marrying her, she was bloody gorgeous, plus rich and educated and everything a Magister would want in a wife. Carver wanted to hate her.  
  
Just as Carver was about to pull out his phone and fiddle with it just for something to do with his drink-less hand, Cassandra appeared at his arm. “Ugh.”  
  
Carver snorted. “I know, right?”  
  
“Tevinter.”  
  
Carver agreed.  
  
They drank in silence for a moment, watching the rest of the guests mingle around them. The other guests were restrained; there was no excited chatter or giggly reunions, just muted greetings and small talk. Carver and Cassandra stood without speaking for a few minutes until Varric appeared.  
  
“Hey there Junior, didn’t expect you to actually show up.” Varric grinned up at him and Carver couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face in return. Carver shook his hand and thanked the Maker for at least one more friend. “And look at you, growing a beard like a real adult. Trying to be your brother again?”  
  
Carver rolled his eyes. “Ha bloody ha, always with the jokes.” Varric chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d be here, or that you even knew Cullen and Dorian.”  
  
Varric’s eyes glanced to Cassandra beside him, and he moved to her side, slipping one hand around her waist. “Actually, I don’t. I’m a plus one at this thing.”  
  
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed at Carver, as if daring him to say something. Carver took a drink to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. That certainly wasn’t a couple he saw coming, but he had enough self-preservation instinct than to say that to Cassandra’s face.  
  
“Not to mention, I have family here.” As if on cue, a two people came forward into their little circle.    
  
A stunning blonde woman, dressed and made up impeccably, and an older man with a family resemblance greeted Varric with genuine fondness. Varric smirked as Carver tried not to gape. Her platinum hair fell in perfect ringlets around her bronzed face, the icy blue accents on her pristine white dress bringing out her crystal clear eyes.  
  
 “Well, hello,” the woman said, her eyes running up and down Carver’s body. “Who do we have here?”  
  
Varric gestured. “Athanir, Mae, this is Carver Hawke, and my date Cassandra Pentaghast. Carver, Cass, Magister Athanir Tilani and his daughter, Maevaris.”  
  
The Magister bowed politely and Maevaris tilted her head. “A pleasure, Serrah Hawke, Lady Pentaghast,” the older man said.  
  
Something in Maevaris’ face shifted at Carver’s name, a recognition or acknowledgement that Carver didn’t understand. Her eyes lost the playful flirting and became a bit colder, the fond smile she had for Varric dimming. “Carver Hawke, yes, of course,” she murmured. “Enchanted.”  
  
“Uh, yes. You too.”  
  
Carver’s confusion at their family connection must have shown on his face. “Maevaris is my cousin, married a cousin of mine who worked in the Ambassadoria.”  
  
“Oh?” Carver scrambled to think of the polite thing to say. “Is that where he is right now?”  
  
Cassandra glared at him, and Carver assumed that wasn’t it. Mae’s lowered eyes were the only indication of his misstep, but she recovered within seconds. “He died last year, the sweating sickness. We were married for two years before that.”  
  
Carver felt his face heat and the bottom drop out of his belly. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled.  
  
Athanir’s wizened voice held a smile. “He was a great man, and we haven’t forgotten him.”  
  
Carver hazarded a look up, to find Mae watching him. He wondered what kind of marriage they had if she could look so calm and collected speaking about him only a year later.  
  
Thankfully, Varric and Athanir moved on past Carver’s awkward question, speaking of the dwarven presence in Minrathous, the Ambassadoria, Cassandra’s family in Nevarra, and other political stuff that went over his head. He sipped at his drink and tried not to squirm under Mae’s watchful eye.  
  
He’d heard Felix mention the woman off-handedly, without really knowing who she was, and now that he could put a name to a face, Carver wondered what Felix had told her. Clearly she knew something, or she wouldn’t be watching him with narrowed eyes, like a viper with its prey.  
  
“So, Carver,” Mae said in a honeyed voice, an aside not to draw attention as the others continued their own discussion. “ _Dorian_ has told me all about you.”  
  
His insides twisted at her emphasis on Dorian’s name. “Oh?” Carver lifted his glass to his lips to cover up his apprehension, only to find it empty. He silently cursed. “Yeah, he’s great. He and Cullen are great. They’re great together.”  
  
One of Mae’s eyebrows rose a sliver, but she didn’t comment on his inane rambling. “Yes, they are. It’s good to see him happy again, and in love.”  
  
Carver hummed noncommittally.  
  
“Is your date here somewhere?”  
  
Carver choked on his tongue. “My— My date? Maker, no, I didn’t bring anyone.” Carver wiped one sweaty palm on his pant leg and scratched the back of his neck, and Mae’s raised eyebrow at the gesture added one more item to the long list of social mistakes Carver had made tonight.  
  
“I apologize for the mistake,” Mae said, “I could have sworn I had heard about a girlfriend of yours. A childhood sweetheart, perhaps.”  
  
Carver balked. A childhood sweetheart? “No, that’s not—“  
  
Suddenly, something small and dense bashed into the back of his knee. Carver stumbled with a yelp and heard a high pitched, “sorry!” His drink sloshed all over his hand, and only Varric’s iron grip on his arm kept him from dumping the whole thing onto the others.  
  
Another child ran past with a giggle, and then they were gone. Carver blinked, tried to shake the excess liquor off his hand surreptitiously.  
  
“Robb! Lydia!” hissed a voice from behind him, and Carver turned. “Stop running around before I take you right out of here!” Mia Meyrick, nee Rutherford, looked tired, with new wrinkles and curly hair frazzled falling out of her braid, and Carver really couldn’t blame her. The last time he’d seen her, the children had been much younger and less mobile, so there were fewer possibilities for destruction. Now, in this lavish palace with two of her three children in “run and play” mode, Carver just felt bad. “I am so sorry, Carver, for Robb’s terrible behavior. I don’t know where he and Lydia got the energy. Do you need a new drink? Can I get you a napkin?”  
  
Carver gave her a sympathetic smile and gripped her shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it, Mia. I’m all good. You seem to have your hands full, already.”  
  
“It doesn’t look like you need one more child to take care of,” Varric said with an elbow to Carver’s side, and Carver glared as the others laughed.  
  
Don came up with another child in his arms. “Love, take her, I’ll go find the others.” Mia and Don blonde, buff, blue-eyed, and entirely stereotypically Fereldan. Three kids, a dog, a farmhouse in the country, and when Carver was younger and optimistic about the future, he’d wanted something like their life. Now, with a stable job and a life in Denerim, not to mention no romantic or family prospects, it was more like a sweet daydream, unattainable but still nice to think about once in a while.  
  
Mia nodded, a grim smile and heavy sigh showing her exhaustion at wrangling her three children, but as Don bent to peck her on the lips, her eyes twinkled. “Good luck.”  
  
Carver ruffled the baby’s hair. “Hello little Sophie, are you being good for your mum?”  
  
Sophie giggled and waved her arms at Carver. He made faces at her while Varric made the introductions.  
  
Mia bounced Sophie on her hip as Varric introduced the girl to the others, and the company laughed when Sophie buried her face in Mia’s neck. “She’s a little shy with strangers,” Mia said as she brushed her hand through her child’s stringy blonde hair.  
  
“I imagine this is all quite new for her,” Maevaris said. Carver recognized something in the way she looked at Sophie, a quiet glimmer of longing, a far-away dream that _this could have been mine, once._  
  
A gong rang somewhere nearby and Carver nearly jumped out of his skin. Sophie gasped, and the crowd stifled another round of laughter.  
  
An elven servant appeared before a set of black double doors. “Dinner is ready.”  
  
Halward and Aquinea linked hands in front of the enormous black wood doors and as they opened, led the company into the dining room. Carver sent a quiet prayer up to the Maker that he didn’t monumentally fuck this up.


	7. thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carver experiences tevinter society, has feelings, makes questionable choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I will definitely finish this..... but maybe not soon. eventually. writing is hard, yall.

“Carver?”  
  
Felix’s voice sounded exactly the same, like a caress against his skin, something delicate and precious. Carver sat up in his bed and turned toward the sound, the heavy duvet over his legs suddenly stifling. Felix stood in the doorway of Carver’s borrowed room, silhouetted in the frame and backlit by the brightness of the hallway. Was this what Andraste seeing the Maker felt like? His formal clothes were all sharp edges and dark hard fabrics, foreign and Tevinter and far away, yet the look in his eye so familiar and intimate.  
  
Felix knelt on the bed above him, knees pressing against the outside of Carver’s hips over the blanket, leaning down until their lips just barely brushed against each other, a feather-light promise of more. Carver lifted a hand to trace the fine lines around Felix’s eyes, dragged his thumb down the curve of his cheek and curled his fingers around his ear. Felix’s eyes closed and his mouth opened on a sigh, breathy and wanton.  
  
Carver hummed and pushed upward, unable to resist the pull one moment longer, locking their lips together. Felix moaned into Carver’s mouth, a perfect sound, one he had thought about over and over again, just the memory often helping him to completion in the year of lonely nights since they’d seen each other. Carver’s hands slid down Felix’s bare shoulders, needing to touch every inch of him, needing to be closer, closer, until there was nothing between them. Carver’s hips jerked up, pressing their hips against each other as their legs tangled, the slip slide of skin sending a rush of heat through Carver.  
  
“Yes,” Felix whispered, and Carver echoed him.  
  
He felt it rising in him, the wave of pleasure rolling closer and closer. The feel of Felix around him, above him, inside him, everywhere at once. His hips started jerking in erratic thrusts, almost there, almost there—  
  
Carver woke with a jerk. Felix had disappeared, and all Carver could see was the painted ceiling above the bed, depicting some kind of heavenly vision of Andraste. His hands clenched in the fine sheets and his skin felt clammy with sweat. He panted until he could catch his breath, then tried to relax his muscles one by one, unlocking them with great effort.  
  
It was a dream. Of _fucking_ course it was. Like this weekend wasn’t hard enough, now here he was having sex dreams about an engaged man who wanted nothing to do with him.  
  
He looked down at his cock, full and expectant, and he groaned in frustration. Carver slapped a hand over his face. Maker, why him?  
  
  
— —  
  
  
Carver wasn’t hiding. Not exactly. He was just taking a breather, and in a moment, he would return to his seat. After the frighteningly intense dream this morning and a day full of socializing with strangers about small talk and literally nothing, all Carver wanted was a moment to himself where he didn’t have to pretend to be civil and happy to be here.  
  
When planning this trip, _Tevinter Opera_ hadn’t been high on his list of priorities for things to see or do. Opera in general, or plays, or _high culture_ in general just didn’t speak to him. Bethany had tried to stir an interest before, and if he couldn’t like it for her, there was no way tonight would change his mind. He wondered if Tevinter had sports teams.  
  
He scrubbed a hand over his beard and took a deep breath. He wanted a cigarette, and he didn’t even smoke. He stood in one of the lavish hallways leading to each private box, halfway hidden behind a tall velvet curtain. The dark glossy stone of the floors and columns, the dimmed crystal chandeliers, and the heavy fabric of the drapes gave him the illusion of privacy.  
  
Just has he talked himself into returning to the stuffy box, the lights and the din of the crowd rose together. Carver turned back to the entrance to the Pavus’ private seats and found Cassandra exiting simultaneously.  
  
“Intermission,” she explained.  
  
“Great.” Carver blew out a relieved breath as Cassandra stalked away and he re-entered the box. The others stood in front of their seats, chatting amiably and watching the rest of the crowd visible below them.  
  
The wedding party sat in the Pavus’ box tonight, overlooking the seats on the main floor and the stage. The high vantage point gave the guests an excellent view of the rest of society, which Carver had been told was the entire point of the opera. The play itself was secondary to people-watching, judging the dress and manner of one’s societal opponents or political enemies.  
  
The lights had barely dimmed during the performance, and most of the audience spent the majority of the show chatting, visiting from box to box, or watching each other. In fact, the most attentive people in the whole building were probably in their party tonight.  
  
Carver fell into the nearest group of people he knew, finding Josephine flapping her hands excitedly and Herah watching fondly. “It’s just so beautiful! I never thought the opera would be quite so exhilarating here, but goodness! When the impoverished Soporati Julius saved the Altus heiress from jumping from that ledge,” Josephine swooned, “and when they danced below deck with the crew, it was just so… so…” She sighed, hands clasped in front of her chest and eyes bright with romance.  
  
Most others in their little circle exchanged looks, clearly not appreciating the show as much as Josephine did. Carver shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the others. Josephine and Herah, Tabris and Leliana, Livia and Felix, and him, the only single one. He wondered how quickly he could escape this circle for a different one, hopefully with fewer couples.  
  
“Yes, it’s quite the production,” Livia said, her own fervor equalling Josephine’s. Carver wanted to hate her, he truly did, but she’d been nothing but kind to him and the others since they’d arrived. It was annoying. “The actor for Julius was positively convincing, especially considering Tevinter plays don’t value realism for the sake of drama. Usually the acting is more like Calanthus, bombastic and loud, to show their status. It certainly added to Julius’ appeal, and I can see why Floriana would be enticed by even such a poor country boy as him instead of her fiance. Oh, but Floriana’s costumes are simply to die for.” Her enthusiasm for the show almost matched Josephine’s, and the women’s bright chatter was almost infectious.  
  
Tabris snorted. “Still don’t see why Floriana would go for a prick like Calanthus. Just because he’s rich and her mother pushed her into it, ’s not worth it.”  
  
Livia shrugged. “Sometimes arranged marriages work out. I must admit, my own certainly will.” She sent an adoring gaze to Felix at her elbow, who smiled back at her. Carver looked away. “Maybe not Floriana with Calanthus, but he doesn’t seem like a good person in general, does he.”  
  
Leliana spoke up. “At least his poetry was quite lovely. _I shall give you rolling lands, Houses of marble, and billowing farms, Pearls, to trickle between your hands, Smoldering rubies, to circle your arms. He has only a lilting song, Only a melody, happy and high._ ”  
  
Tabris snickered and bumped her hip into Leliana’s. “You want me to read you poetry now, ’s’that it?”    
  
Carver squirmed. He’d only been able to follow the most basic elements of the plot, as his attention had been pulled in every direction by artifice and glamor of the costumes, the sets, the giant lasers. The poetry and the songs had gone right over his head.  
  
Not to mention the distraction of the person seated to his right, and he didn’t know if Felix’s cold politeness or silence was worse.  
  
Josephine and Livia continued their discussion on the finer points of the opera, and Carver couldn’t help but listen even if he didn’t really know what they were talking about. “It’s just so romantic,” Josephine gushed, “Floriana forced to choose between the poor but kind Julius and the rich but cruel Calanthus, the first full sea voyage from Minrathous to Denerim, disaster when they hit the iceberg, will the lovers save each other? It’s just so tragic and beautiful.”  
  
“Certainly,” Livia replied. “It’s an old tale, the legend dating from the Exalted Age, but this version was only written a few years ago. I’ve heard that the special effects coming up when they crash are brand new, haven’t been used in any other shows before this one. We’re so lucky to be seeing this tonight!”  
  
He regretted coming back into the box for intermission. He caught Cullen’s eye from where he stood with Dorian and Felix’s father. Cullen tilted his head in question and Carver shook his head. He backed out of their little circle and exited the box once more.  
  
This was awful. Carver looked at his watch and groaned, two more hours of this god-forsaken “entertainment,” and they were only half-finished. Something tightened in his chest, closing around his throat and his breathing quickened to make up for it.  
  
He pushed through the crowd, the mass of bodies and artificial perfume scents choking him, until a firm hand landed on his shoulder.  
  
“Hey mate,” Branson smiled at him, Cal at his shoulder. “Let’s go find a drink, what do you think?”  
  
Carver nodded, hopefully not too desperately, and he let Branson lead him out, Cal trailing behind.  
  
One of the larger balconies had a bar and an impressive view of the sea, and thankfully seemed not too crowded. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?" Branson positioned Carver at the balustrade. “Could hardly breathe in there without tripping over some feathered costume, but out here it’s much better. Deep breaths, yeah?” He clapped Carver on the back and Carver took a deep breath. Branson exchanged a glance with Cal, and disappeared towards the bar.  
  
Carver leaned on the stone railing and hung his head between his shoulders, focusing on his breathing. The voices of other guests became a distant hum, jewelry clinked against crystal champagne glasses, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. _They have owls in Tevinter?_ Carver wondered.  
  
 Carver managed to mostly get himself under control by the time Branson returned, drink in hand. Carver sucked half of it down and exhaled deeply.  
  
“All right?” Branson tried, and Carver nodded.  
  
“Yeah. Better. Thanks.”  
  
Cal smirked and dipped their head. “Too stuffy inside, this is much better.”  
  
Branson and Cal were quite the pair. Branson, blonde and fair and broad, and Cal, lean and dark and drawn, had dated for near on ten years. High school sweethearts, now had two kids and a dog, they were basically the perfect couple. Ever since Carver had known them, they’d been the ideal, the picture of domestic bliss and serenity. If he had to be around any goopy couple tonight, they were not so bad a choice.  
  
Cal raised their eyebrows, and Branson shook his head. Carver watched their silent we’ve-been-dating-for-so-long-we-don’t-need-words discussion and scowled. He took that last thought back. More reminders of people being in love that weren’t him. He couldn’t escape the love and romance anywhere.  
  
“So,” Cal started. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”  
  
Carver looked over at them. “What happened?”  
  
Cal’s dark eyes bore into him. “Whatever’s going on to make you jumpy one minute and surly the next. Something is clearly bothering you, but I can’t tell if it’s just Tevinter in general or something more specific.”  
  
When Carver said nothing, Cal sighed. They turned to Branson and made Significant Eye Contact that Carver could feel even when he wasn’t looking.  
  
“I’m glad we didn’t bring the twins, tonight,” Branson said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.  
  
Cal hummed in agreement. “I miss them, but they’d not have appreciated the nuances of love affairs between engaged heiresses and poor artists.”  
  
Carver felt his shoulders hitch up, and he tried to relax them before either of his companions noticed.  
  
“It seems so fake, of course she would choose the rich man. Who wouldn’t? Protection, safety, money,” Branson said.  
  
“But he’s terrible, Bran,” Cal sounded exasperated. “And the poor man will love her. Love’s more important, right? You should know that.”  
  
Carver felt the words burst forth before he could stop them. “But she’d be better off. The poor fool can’t offer her anything except love, and what’s that worth? Nothing, in the long run. They’ll starve, or they’ll die on the ship when the lower class people are left to drown, because that’s Tevinter for you. In the small chance they actually survive, she’ll be shunned by her rich family and left in the gutter. They’re doomed regardless. Better that she lives, even unhappily.”  
  
The silence that followed his outburst raised the hair on the back of his neck. He glanced at Branson and Cal to find them watching him with slightly shocked expressions. Cal’s eyebrows were halfway up their forehead and Branson’s mouth gaped open. Carver turned back to the railing and ran a hand through his hair. _Shit_. He sucked down the rest of his drink, only coughing a little.  
  
“Carver,” Cal started, but Carver waved his hand to cut her off.  
  
“I’m going back to the box. Thanks for the drink, Branson.”  
  
Branson raised his glass amicably, but his pinched eyebrows showed more concern than Carver wanted. Carver turned to leave the balcony, only to find Mae, Felix, Livia, Rilienus, and Dorian standing behind him, apparently having followed him out of the box for fresh air as well. Had they heard him bitching about the play? Bloody fuck. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, like he was in freefall and without anything below to catch him.  
  
He left his empty glass on the balustrade and shouldered past the Tevinters, keeping his eyes on the ground.  

_I shall give you rolling lands, Houses of marble, and billowing farms, Pearls, to trickle between your hands, Smoldering rubies, to circle your arms._  
  
This was a mistake. All of this was one giant mistake. Damn Dorian for having a wedding here in Tevinter. Damn Cullen for dragging him all the way out here. Damn opera for being so bloody stupid. Damn Felix for—  
  
Carver gritted his teeth and regretted his outburst, wanted to smack himself for his temper getting the best of him, about a dumb opera no less. He had left the relative peace and quiet outside to come inside, exactly the place he didn’t want to be. The lights dimmed briefly, announcing the beginning of the next act.  
  
Someone called his name, and his shoulders hitched up in anticipation.  
  
He turned to find Maevaris striding through the crowd, eyes locked on him. Her white gown swirled around her ankles, the gold embroidery thick and heavy at the bottom trailing upward to twist around her waist. She wore a placid expression, conveying none of her feelings but somehow Carver knew she had much to say to him. His belly twisted again. “Uh, hi,” he said as she drew close.  
  
“Would you kindly walk me back to the box? I wouldn’t want to miss any more of the performance.” Mae needed to tilt her head back a little to look up into his face, and yet Carver felt six inches tall in front of her. The thick kohl around her eyes and silvery shimmer on her skin made her look ethereal, like Carver stood before a vengeful deity ready to smite him for some unanticipated offence.  
  
“Um. Sure.” She gave him an expectant look before he remembered to hold his arm out for her. She rested one delicate hand on his arm and they began slowly following the crowd up the stairs and back to the seats. Carver wondered how she could walk with such a billowy skirt and not fall on her face, especially surrounded by the crowd.  
  
“How are you enjoying the opera so far?” Her voice was light and airy, her eyes remained on the others around them.  
  
Carver’s mouth twisted. “It’s a little hard to follow,” he admitted.  
  
Mae smirked. “Even for me sometimes, I must agree. You certainly seemed to have a strong opinion about it, while speaking with Branson and Cal outside.”  
  
Carver felt his cheeks burn, and reached up with his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. I don’t really know what I’m talking about.”  
  
“I think you do. You truly think Floriana would be better of with Calanthus?” Carver kept his eyes on the back of the person in front of him, focusing on each step rather than Mae’s pointed interest, but he could feel her eyes on the side of his face.  
  
“I mean,” he started, then stalled. “I dunno. It just seems smarter in the long run. Love can only get you so far, right? It doesn’t last, so why bother.”    
  
She hummed thoughtfully. “You’re not much of a romantic, are you?” It seemed like a rhetorical question, so Carver didn’t answer. “I can’t say I agree. A life of miserable privilege isn’t worth it.”  
  
Carver snorted. “Spoken like true nobility. Poverty with love looks great from the outside until you’re fighting about where your next meal will come from. I’ll take financial security any day, thanks.”  
  
Her hand tightened where it lay on his arm for a second, then relaxed. “She’ll be trapped and unhappy, living a lie and pretending for the rest of her life. You’d wish that on her?”  
  
They stood before the Pavus box and paused outside. “I— It’s just a play, and it doesn’t really matter what I think, now does it?”  
  
Mae studied him, and Carver couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second. His eyes slid down her dress to the floor, then to the opening of the box. He didn’t want to go sit through the rest of the play, but he wanted Mae’s scrutiny even less.  
  
She waited until he looked back into her face before she spoke. “Have you never loved someone so much to want to leave everything behind? To know that they loved you for _you_ and not just your money or your status, and that was enough?”  
  
Carver swallowed.

_No pearls, to trickle between his hands, No smoldering rubies, to circle his arms. I have only a lilting song, Only a melody, happy and high._  
  
“No.”  
  
Mae’s face remained impassive. “You can’t imagine _anyone_ feeling like that?”  
  
He wanted to raise his hand to scratch the back of his neck, but he resisted. “I’ll just—“ he gestured into the box and slipped inside, finding his seat and collapsing into it.

 

— —

  
  
The thumping bass traveled through the nondescript door into the open plaza, making the “secret” location less of a secret and more of something to be ignored by the locals. A clocktower struck one in a nearby Chantry, and Rilienus clapped his hands together. “I hope you’re all ready for this, and no, Dorian, there’s no escaping now.”  
  
Dorian tilted his head in acquiescence and allowed Rilienus to lead him forward to the entrance to the club. His dignified expression was slightly marred by how clearly drunk he was, but his friends kept him upright and moving. Felix and Mae laughed together, the Tevinters leading the group onward. Outside the club, small groups of men stood talking quietly, smoke from their fragrant cigarettes lingering in the still air.  
  
“Is this really necessary?” Cullen’s voice sounded strained. Branson and Rylen grabbed a much more reluctant Cullen, dragging him by the shoulders behind his fiance, and Carver snickered at Cullen’s entreaties to leave him out of this.  
  
“It _absolutely_ is necessary, brother,” Branson said.  
  
“You’re going to get a lap dance, and you’re going to like it,” Rylen added, the laughter in his voice only slightly hysterical.  
  
Carver brought up the rear of the party, hands in his pockets, beside Varric, Thorold, and Mia’s husband Don. Carver still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into this, but after all the drinking at the opera and his lovesick misery, he found himself following the others and finishing out his night of terrible decisions.  
  
After the darkness of the alleyway, Carver shut his eyes briefly as they adjusted to the lights inside the club. Royal blue light bathed everything, with neon pink or green or yellow interspersed as spotlights roamed around, highlighting the dancers or patrons for a brief second before moving on.  
  
Rilienus led the group to a roped off section of the club, up a set of stairs and through a glass hallway to a balcony overlooking the main floor. Carver stood at the rail and watched the other people below as everyone else took seats on low couches and servers brought several giant bottles to their tables. The main floor had a giant platform against one wall with three poles extending from the ceiling to the ground, with three other stages interspersed around the room. People sat on chairs built into the floor like in-ground pools.  
  
And the dancers…  
  
Carver swallowed as he watched the dancer on the main stage, her sinuous movements drawing and holding every eye. She seemed to be the star of the show, with enough gold leaf decorating the stage to satisfy a dragon, several black-clad beefy bouncers positioned around the entrances, and the low bass beat of the music corresponding to her set perfectly. Other dancers and servers wove through the crowd, of every race and color, gorgeous and scantily clad, men and women alike. The “uniform,” if the small piece of fabric could even be called that, was a sparkly green fabric that covered the bare minimum for decency.  
  
Carver managed to drag himself away from the railing and watched the Pavus-Rutherford party from afar for a moment. Varric sat in raised chair speaking to a staff member who nodded emphatically, and Carver wondered what Varric was getting them into. Branson, Don, Thorold, and Rylen sat on one side of the massive booth, all looking supremely amused at having entered this bastion of decadence and hedonism in Tevinter.  
  
Dorian and Cullen had been separated into their respective parties, with Rylen almost sitting on top of Cullen to keep the man in place, and Dorian between quietly laughing Felix, boisterous Rilienus, and smirking Mae. Felix leaned over to speak into Dorian’s ear over the music, and Dorian threw his head back in laughter. Carver felt something pull in his chest, recalling a similar night of drinking and carousing a year ago.  
  
Carver turned away from them and went to sit beside Rylen. He wasn’t going to think about how Felix hadn’t looked at him at all, had ignored him as thoroughly as if he didn’t exist entirely basically all weekend. Even after he had walked up on Carver spilling his guts to Branson and Cal at the opera, he said nothing through the entire second and third acts.  
  
It didn’t matter. When Rylen pushed a shot into his hand, Carver threw it back with relish. He smacked his lips and slammed it on the table.  
  
That’s when the first dancer appeared. Rylen, Branson and Varric hollered, pointing to Cullen who tried to smile through his clear trepidation, and the dancer smirked. He was a tall lean elf, an undercut shaved into his dark hair and the shimmery translucent fabric of his shirt revealed a muscled torso underneath. He bent at the waist to whisper into Cullen’s ear, causing a deep red blush to cover Cullen’s face even through the darkness of the club, before lowering himself to Cullen’s lap and _writhing_.  
  
An hour and four lap dances later, Carver felt like he’d be covered in glitter forever, but couldn’t be bothered by it. Whatever this drink was, Carver liked it. The bubbles tickled his nose and went to his head. How many drinks was this for the night? Carver thought back in his head, trying to calculate the amount he drank before the opera, at the opera at intermission, after the opera before coming to the club, and now here…  
  
He sat up from his sprawl across the seats and his lazy interest in the lady dancer on Varric’s lap as Rilienus appeared before him. Dorian’s friend wasn’t very tall, but he carried himself with a grace unmistakably born of a life of privilege and power, with a presence that caught Carver’s attention.  
  
“Another drink?” Rilienus asked, somehow pitching his voice over the music without shouting.  
  
Carver nodded, Rilienus seated himself at Carver’s side, leaning in just a little too much to be anything but deliberate, and Carver swallowed. He reached over the table, stretching out a long arm almost brushing against Carver’s shoulder, plucked a bottle from the center of the table and refilled Carver’s glass and then his own.  
  
“Uh, thanks,” Carver mumbled. Rilienus smirked, and Carver felt his heart quicken at the way his eyes went dark.  
  
“We haven’t been truly introduced, but I’m willing to forego the formalities for such a meeting as this, if you are.” His voice sounded like silk slipping over stone, smooth and deep, and Carver nodded again, losing his voice. “I am Rilienus Aquila.” Cullen had pointed the man out after dinner the night before, giving him a vague description of Dorian’s and his childhood friendship that Carver didn’t really understand.  
  
“Carver. Hawke.” For the first time, no glint of recognition appeared in Rilienus’ eyes as it had in almost every other person’s tonight, and he thanked Andraste for small mercies. Maybe the story of how stupid he’d been over Felix hadn’t gotten as far around has he thought.  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Carver. Hawke.” Rilienus kept his eyes on Carver’s, a strangely intimate gesture for a stranger, and Carver shifted in his seat. This seemed to be a signal, and Rilienus leaned further to speak into Carver’s ear. The pounding bass line of the music was good for the dancers’ routines but not great for conversations. “So, Carver, from your quaint personal style and wide-eyed appreciation of this fine establishment, I would assume you’re Ferelden.”  
  
Carver could feel the heat from Rilienus’ shoulder, and he could smell the man’s cologne, a strong, spicy scent that made his nose tingle a bit. “Uh, yep. Born and raised.”  
  
Rilienus’ eyes slid down to Carver’s shoulders, chest, and then back up to his face. His smile grew. “I haven’t met many Fereldans here, as I’m sure you can imagine. Tell me, are the rumors about Fereldan _stamina_ true?”  
  
Carver swallowed the spit pooling under his tongue. “Uh. I don’t— That’s—“  
  
Rilienus smiled, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. He only let Carver fumble with his words for a moment before interrupting. “Would you like another drink?”  
  
Carver looked down at his hand, and found his glass was empty again. When had he done that? “Sure.” Rilienus took his empty glass, fingers sliding across Carver’s and sending a shiver down his spine. He gestured to a passing server and said something in Tevene.  
  
The server returned almost instantly with two glasses of a sparkly blue liquid. Rilienus handed one to Carver and clinked their glasses together before drinking it down in one long swig. Carver dragged his eyes away from Rilienus’ throat as it worked, and instead examined his glass. “What is this stuff?”  
  
“Liquid Lyri-Rum,” Rilienus said, just as Carver drank his own glass.  
  
Carver choked a little, tried not to cough the rest of the drink everywhere. The sense memory of the drink flooded his mouth, and the visceral memory of Felix’s hand feeding it to him, licking the taste of it out of Felix’s mouth, the smell of the drink and something primally Felix, hit him square in the stomach. “Fuck,” he coughed.  
  
He hadn’t known the name of it before, when Isabela bought the shots last year at Lake Calenhad, but he remembered the flavor, the consistency, the spine-tingling lust that came with Felix’s action.  
  
His face must’ve shown his apprehension and Rilienus gave him a funny look. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Never better,” Carver croaked. He coughed again, trying to get his breath back from the punch in the gut. Rilienus took this as an invitation to drape himself further over Carver, and Carver used the feeling of the man’s body to distract himself. “So, how do you know Dorian?”  
  
Rilienus slipped his hand onto Carver’s thigh, leaning onto it so he could whisper into Carver’s ear, warm and steady and fingertips brushing the inseam of his pants. Carver swallowed and tried not to look down. “Oh, childhood friends, all that.” He kept talking, telling Carver about their twenty years of friendship, but Carver couldn’t focus on his words while his hand was _right there_.  
  
Carver kept his eyes on Rilienus’ face even as his attention was a bit further south. His smile was certainly attractive, if full of too many teeth, like a hungry jungle cat who has sighted its prey and was seducing it with sexy liquor.  
  
Carver shifted in his seat, the warm press of Rilienus’ hand like a brand on his leg. His fingers each wore a weighty ring, some with gems and some plain bands, and Carver wondered if he could feel each one burning into his skin through the fabric of his pants. Rilienus kept talking, now about the club itself and the times he’d dragged Dorian out for a bit of fun. Carver nodded along at the right places, but Carver must have missed a cue when Rilienus moved in to whisper in Carver’s ear again.  
  
“Do you like what you see, Carver Hawke?” Carver shivered as he felt Rilienus’ breath warm his neck.  
  
Carver felt his face heat. The tingle that ran from his sternum down into his groin answered that question for him. “Uh, yeah, I do.”  
  
“I think I need a break from the club.” Rilienus pulled back to look into Carver’s face, dark eyes glittering with dark promise in the low light. “Would you join me?”  
  
Carver swallowed. He felt like he was floating. Rilienus’ hand tightened on his thigh, and Carver felt a pulse of heat in his belly. He could do this, he could follow Rilienus to the bathroom and have a quick fuck. He imagined the man’s hot breath on his neck, his hand quick and tight on Carver’s cock, his stubble on Carver’s cheek, pulling back as orgasm crashed over him and Felix’s mouth opening on Carver’s name—  
  
Carver flinched. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He gestured to his glass, and Rilienus tracked the movement.  
  
He pulled back, lifting his hand from Carver’s thigh. “Not tonight, anyway, hm?” Rilienus winked and stood, graceful even with all the drinks they’d consumed. “I suppose tonight wouldn’t be ideal in any case. Wouldn’t want to steal the limelight from the happy bachelors, now would we? Another time, then. It’s nice to meet you, Carver.”  
  
“You too,” Carver said weakly, before Rilienus returned to his seat, but Carver didn’t watch him go.  
  
He suddenly felt like the room was far too warm, an itching under his skin. He tugged on his shirt collar and glanced around the table, finding most of the other men distracted by booze or naked people, none looking his way.  
  
Except, of course, for one. Carver felt that electric jolt in his belly as he found Felix staring directly at him. It was the first time all night that Felix had even slightly acknowledged that Carver was there. Felix held a glass in one hand and sat back against his seat beside Dorian, looking perfectly in his element even in a glitzy strip club, ready to hold court and play the Grand Game, or whatever the Tevinter version of that was.  
  
Carver couldn’t have seen the Felix he knew a year ago doing such things that Tevinter nobility were famous for: blood magic, ordering assassinations, joining the Venatori cult that had popped up a few years ago. But this Felix, with his dark robes and darker eyes and air of power… _It’s for the good of the family._  
  
He lifted his jaw defiantly. Felix’s face didn’t change, but his eyes darted to the now-empty space where Rilienus had sat moments before. He looked away, like Carver was just a painting or wall hanging, a decoration that he didn’t particularly notice before his eyes glided away from it. Dorian said something and Felix laughed.  
  
Carver scowled. Felix had no right to judge him. Just because Felix was engaged and rich and about to be one of the most powerful people in this country didn’t mean that his life was any better than Carver’s, and Carver didn’t need him.  
  
Carver didn’t need him.  
  
He stood too quickly, felt the blood rushing to his head, and he had to wait a moment before he could step away from the table without risking falling on his face. He weaved through the throngs of people, down the stairs, past the bar, into a darkened, polished bathroom. Maker, even a strip club bathroom was decorated all in black marble and gold fittings, with an attendant outside the door, a bowl of mints and fluffy towels beside the sink, and runes to turn on the taps.  
  
He splashed some cold water on his face. He planted his palms on the countertop and stared at himself in the mirror.  
  
What was he doing? Why was he here? The high Tevinter opera, a strip club where dancers probably earn more than his yearly salary in a week, a wedding surrounded by people in love or in lust or anything but lonely and miserable. He was just a boy from Fereldan, he can’t be having thoughts, or worse, _feelings_ , like this.  
  
He let out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have had all those drinks, he realized a bit too late.  
  
He exited the bathroom and straightened his collar, trying to fit himself back in the frame of mind that would get him through the rest of this night unscathed, without sleeping with a stranger or pining over Felix or having any kind of these shitty feelings.  
  
And yet, he tasted the Lyri-Rum on his lips and cursed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poetry in the opera isn't mine, but is adapted from [The Choice by Dorothy Parker.](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-choice/)


	8. friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another rehearsal dinner

Carver’s hangover lasted into the afternoon, but he managed to make it to lunch and keep a pleasant, if fake, smile on his face. He’d avoided conversation with multiple trips to the buffet table, and after his fourth plate he started to feel human again.  
  
He sat alone at one of the several tables in the breakfast room, only steps away from the food tables. At another table sat some of the Fereldan wedding party, and all of the children with food on their clothes already. Further away from them sat Tevinters, the parents looking chipper and their adult children mostly hungover.  
  
His thoughts kept circling around the night before, replaying every fuzzy memory and feeling shame like a weight on his shoulders. His solitary reprieve only lasted a few minutes.  
  
“Morning, Carver!” Rosalie set a plate down beside Carver and smiled. “Mind if I join you?”  
  
Carver shook his head and gestured to the empty seat. She was pretty, a strawberry-blonde young woman with cheerful optimism, and her vivacious manner made Carver long to have Peaches by his side for this mess. They’d met on a couple of occasions, but as his friend’s younger sister, they only had so much in common. She carried the conversation, chattering brightly about her studies and her girlfriend and her three dogs, only needing Carver to grunt an affirmative once in a while. If Carver couldn’t have silence, at least Rosalie could keep the conversation going for the both of them.  
  
Rosalie’s mouth snapped shut when someone sat on Carver’s other side, her eyes widening and face reddening, words suddenly quick and sharp. “Alright, well, I think Kim is looking for me. I should go find her. Bye, Carver!” She dashed from her seat and he felt a bit like he’d been bludgeoned over the head. He turned to find Rilienus eyeing him, not unlike Carver’s own expression at the first sight of the buffet.  
  
“Hello, Carver,” he purred, and Carver blinked.  
  
“Uh, hi.” He shoveled another forkful of rice into his mouth, and he could practically feel Rilienus’ eyes on his mouth.  
  
“I apologize for scaring off your companion, there. I hardly meant to get in your way.” His tone implied he wasn’t actually sorry, and Carver felt heat rising in his neck.  
  
“You didn’t. We were just talking about Denerim. She’s sweet, but. Her girlfriend is here too, somewhere.”  
  
Something sparked in Rilienus’ eye. “Off-limits, hm?”  
  
Carver looked back at his plate. “Not like that, I’m not. Well.” Shit. Didn’t Cullen say that Tevinter wasn’t very welcoming of gay people? And here Carver was, about to spill his guts to a complete stranger. Then again, Rilienus had been flirting pretty obviously the night before, and if the sight of male strippers grinding on almost everyone in their party hadn’t turned him off, he couldn’t be _too_ prejudiced, right? He stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth to keep himself from rambling.  
  
Rilienus smiled, and Carver felt the panic subside. “Not like that. I see.” His eyes drifted across Carver’s shoulders, and Carver thought, _oh_. “Is that why you came alone to the wedding? Not to pick up bridesmaids, but groomsmen?”  
  
Carver’s cheeks burned and he hunched over his food, mumbling a noncommittal answer.  
  
Rilienus laughed, placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Please, do not worry Carver, your secret is safe with me.” When Carver finally looked back into his face, Rilienus winked and his hand tightened with meaning. “I must say, the idea isn’t unappealing. All the romance in the air, it certainly makes for an easy environment to, shall we say, fall in love?”  
  
Carver didn’t look across the room, kept his eyes on his plate. He swallowed, setting down his fork and the food that suddenly lost all its taste. “I guess so.” He tried to stay in the moment, not to relive memories that hurt in hindsight.  
  
He cleared his throat and pushed his plate away from him. “So, how do you know Dorian?”  
  
Rilienus laughed, throwing his head back and showing off the line of his neck, like Carver had told a particularly funny joke. Carver smiled, feeling awkward, as the action drew eyes to them. When Rilienus stopped laughing, he gazed at Carver fondly. “Didn’t we talk about this last night? Ah, well, it’s impossible to talk about oneself too much, isn’t it? Let’s see, how do I know him? Our fathers are part of the same faction in the Magisterium, and we’d escape the dull political affairs together to explore and amuse ourselves while they made deals. We even dated for a little while.”  
  
Carver blinked. “You dated? He invited an ex to the wedding?” That seemed strange. Did Cullen know?  
  
Rilienus waved a hand, as if brushing off an unpleasant insect. “It was a very long time ago, I must admit. Neither of us knew what we wanted, and it was more experimentation than anything.” He shrugged, a gesture that Carver was coming to recognize as definitively Tevinter elite. “It came as honestly no surprise when he ran off to Ferelden to live in sin with another man, even as it shocked his parents for disobeying them.”  
  
Carver listened as Rilienus told stories about their childhood antics, and stored the especially juicy details to use against Dorian at a later time.  
  
When servants began to take away the plates at the buffet, people began dispersing from the dining room. Carver felt at a loss. He had nothing else to do until the rehearsal that evening, and it seemed that most of the other coupled guests were spending time together in the bathhouse, or going into the city, or doing romantic things that Carver wanted no part of. He could stay in his room, probably. A nap wouldn’t hurt, and he could call Bethany.  
  
Rilienus stood from his seat, and looked down at Carver with hooded eyes. “Would you join me in a stroll through the gardens? They’re quite extensive on the property, and Aquinea prides herself on her roses. Well, the gardner’s roses, since I couldn’t say if she’s actually touched the plants or not.”  
  
Carver hesitated. Did he want to go off alone with this stranger who was so clearly hitting on him? Rilienus’ interest in him was flattering, and flirting with him was certainly no hardship. Bethany had encouraged him to move on, to distract himself. _Closure_ , he thought.  
  
“Alright, why not.” He glanced around the room to see if Rylen or Cullen were around, but found neither. His eyes skipped over the other Tevinters, and Carver’s heart definitely did not skip a beat when he accidentally caught Felix’s eyes. Felix looked about as hungover as the others, with bags under his eyes and skin slightly pale, his stare trained on Carver. He felt trapped under the weight of it, paralyzed until his eyes shifted to take in Rilienus beside him, and the spell was broken.  
  
Carver stood and squared his shoulders, gesturing for Rilienus to lead the way.  
  
Rilienus led him through the house to a side-door, simpler than any other he’d seen in the house previously. It opened into a green space, and Carver felt like he could breathe again.  
  
“So where exactly are we going?” Carver ventured to ask.  
  
Rilienus put one finger over his lips in response, then smirked. “Just a little spot that we used to come to whenever we needed to avoid our parents.” Rilienus’ eyes drifted down Carver’s body then came back to meet his eyes, a dark twinkle revealing less than pure thoughts on his mind. “It’s a secret, and I think you’ll like it.”  
  
Carver nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure what he was getting into, but it sounded interesting. Better than spending the day indoors, trapped and having to make small talk. Better than thinking about what ifs, or what could have beens.  
  
The garden had long, wide pathways, bordered on each side with mirroring pools. The early summer heat hadn’t wilted any of the greenery yet, blooming bushes and lush grass stretching into the distance, edged by a forest on one side and a lake on the other. Rilienus pointed out flowers that he recognized, and made up names for ones he didn’t.  
  
Carver hardly even noticed as others approached, and might have walked right past them if Rilienus hadn’t called out a greeting.  
  
Livia looked radiant as ever, dark hair offset by her white dress and makeup flawless. Her expression gave him pause, though, as her cold demeanor was replaced by glittering eyes and a smile that made her almost approachable. Carver was further confused by Rylen’s appearance at her side instead of Felix.  
  
“Good afternoon, Carver,” she said, and even her voice was sweet and high, none of the disdain coloring it that he expected.  
  
“Uh, hi.” He dipped his head to her and clasped Rylen’s hand. “Enjoying the weather?”  
  
“Asbolutely. Sun like this don’t come often down south,” Rylen said. “I’m soaking it all up while I can. Maybe it’ll follow me home to Starkhaven after.”  
  
Livia’s laugh was bubbly and bright. “Or you’ll just have to stay and enjoy the rest of the summer! I can’t imagine having to bear snow during the wintertime.” One of her hands brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face, patting her updo.  
  
“Livia was showing me the garden.” Rylen pointedly looked around. “She’s into gardening.”  
  
Rilienus spoke up. “Still at it, Liv? I knew you liked it, not like this,” he waved to encompass the garden where they stood, “but actually doing it. Not having your head gardener choose everything and then signing off on whatever was most expensive and rare to show off. I remember you had a little sustainable garden with fruits and vegetables, and your mother would explode when you came in all covered in dirt and grime.”  
  
Livia smiled demurely and dipped her head, humble through the praise. “Oh, yes, I’ve always been interested in sustainability, especially when our peers are so well known for their excessive consumption. My little garden isn’t quite as grand as all this, but it does suffice.”  
  
“Do you still donate the produce?”  
  
Livia’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I do!” She turned to Rylen to explain. “There’s an orphanage a few miles away that is dreadfully underfunded, and since the extra produce from my garden wouldn’t feed our entire household, I give it to them to supplement whatever they usually cook. The children invite me twice a year to share a meal made with the fruits and vegetables, and it’s all so lovely.” She clasped her hands together and Carver could swear a beam of light shone through the clouds to envelop her in ethereal light. “The children are just all so sweet, and I love seeing their enthusiasm. I only wish there was more I could do.”  
  
Carver crossed his arms, and through extreme willpower, kept the sneer off his face. So she worked with orphans, and sustainable gardening, and seemed genuinely interested in the people around her. So what? Just because she seemed like a good person didn’t mean…  
  
What did it mean?  
  
Rilienus and Rylen carried the conversation while Carver stewed in his jealousy until Livia spoke directly to him. “Carver, Felix told me about meeting your family last year. Your sister got married, is that right?”  
  
Carver licked his lips and wondered what exactly Felix had told her. “Yeah, she did.”  
  
“Oh, how lovely! I do love weddings. Is she well? Enjoying her marital bliss?”  
  
“Er, I guess,” Carver ground out.  
  
“He said she married into the ruling family of Starkhaven, what a lovely place! I imagine your mother was happy as well.” Her genuine interest made Carver squirm. Was this a ploy?  
  
“Aye, she’s done well so far,” Rylen said after Carver didn’t answer for an awkward moment. “The people sure like her, and the pictures of them in the paper look disgustingly in love.”  
  
Livia sighed, a happy wistful sound, and turned back to Rylen, her interrogation of Carver at an end. “A fairytale romance. How wonderful, to meet that Perfect Someone and just _know_.” Her voice trailed off, and she and Rylen stared at each other, the moment punctuated by birds singing in the trees and a soft breeze rustling Livia’s skirts.  
  
Carver gritted his teeth. How wonderful, indeed. He tried not to think about Felix and Livia like that: meeting as children, knowing they’re meant for each other, falling in love slowly as best friends and growing old together, happy in their companionship. Carver looked away from the group.  
  
“I’m sure Felix wouldn’t enjoy hearing you say that, pet.” Rilienus’ voice broke whatever had distracted Livia, and she blushed a pretty pink as she turned back to them.  
  
“Oh, Felix knows. We love each other but it’s not like, you know, the fairy tale you read about as a little girl.” Livia shrugged, that infuriating graceful gesture that every Tevinter he met seemed to use. Carver was bloody sick of seeing it.  
  
Rilienus’ hand on his bicep brought Carver out of his thoughts. “Livia, I was going to show Carver our little spot down by the lake.”  
  
“Oh yes,” she said, excitement in her voice. “How lovely. Enjoy yourselves.” She winked and Carver let out a breath. He dipped his head to her again and clapped Rylen on the shoulder, before Rilienus led them away.  
  
They strolled for a few minutes before turning off into a wooded area, a tiny path winding into the treeline that Carver wouldn’t have seen if Rilienus hadn’t pointed it out.  
  
Carver once again regretted his lack of appropriate clothing, as his heavy button-down would have been perfect for Ferelden, even the shade from the trees didn’t stop the bright sun from making him hot. He rolled the sleeves up on his shirt to his elbows and caught Rilienus watching avidly. He flexed a bit and Rilienus laughed. The attention was nice, but it didn’t rouse anything special within him. He thought of Felix’s attention on him at that annoying Orlesian tuxedo shop, the way his dark eyes roamed across Carver’s shoulders and chest. Felix had bit his lip, and even then Carver wanted to kiss him, and—  
  
“Here we are,” Rilienus announced as the trees tapered off and opened onto a little pond. If the garden was rigidly designed and contoured, the lake seemed the exact opposite. It was circular but not perfect, with a small rock beach on one side and unruly greenery tapering off into the water everywhere else.  
  
The sun glimmering off the surface threw Carver back in time, another lake where he had been so blissfully happy then devastated. He could smell freshly cut grass and fresh water, clean earth and cloves, and a memory replayed of pressing his face into the join of Felix’s neck and shoulder. The twist in his belly hurt. He needed to just stop thinking about Felix. That’s all there was to it.  
  
Rilienus touched his arm and Carver jerked back. “Carver? Are you still with me?”  
  
He looked wounded, and Carver was quick to reassure him. “Sorry, just a bit jumpy. This is, uh, your secret spot?”  
  
Rilienus snorted. “My _secret spot_ doesn’t take so much effort to get to.” He winked, and grabbed Carver’s hand to pull him forward. “This is just the lake. We all used to come down here to escape our parents.”  
  
Carver bit his tongue to stop himself from asking about the _we all_ , who that included, what they would do, who they brought and if that included arranged fiancees. “Escaping your parents? Yours were bad too?”  
  
Rilienus heaved a sigh. “They were absolutely dreadful. Father always wanted me to work for him, asking if I could help when I was clearly _busy_. They were terribly selfish, only giving me one of their old cars instead of buying me the new Hivernal like I wanted. Always wanted me to tidy up the house before the servants could, but that was their whole job, so why should I make my bed before they got there to do it?”  
  
Carver’s brow furrowed in confusion. Those were his problems? They seemed so… trivial. Carver wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, that these were only the surface issues that were acceptable to tell strangers. After all Carver had heard about Tevinter parenting, this didn’t seem like _dreadful_ parenting at all.  
  
“I’m… sorry to hear that,” Carver said slowly. “Can’t’ve been easy.” He lowered himself to the grass beside Rilienus and stretched out, leaning back on his hands.  
  
“Not at all, life with them was so unpleasant. I had to be home by eleven at night, when the best parties only started then. I’ve always had to be the perfect son, follow exactly in father’s footsteps without any real decision from me.” That seemed to be a running theme in Tevinter: parents using their children to further their own aims, like they were possessions to be molded into an image of themselves. “I don’t have a problem with being a magister, having all that power and authority, but it’s just so much _work_.” Rilienus folded his legs underneath him and turned to Carver, continuing his laundry list of complaints.  
  
Carver tried not to squirm while listening to Rilienus grouse. When he finally took a breath, Carver jumped in to change the subject. “So, your father and Dorian’s work together in the Magisterium?”  
  
“Yes, they do. Most of our parents here, in fact. It can be quite a small social circle, I must admit. Our fathers work together on issues, and as they groom us to follow in their footsteps, they decide it’s a good idea to have us spend time together. Me, Dorian, Felix, Mae, Livia, a few others, but they’re out of the country so they’re not attending as far as I know. We schooled together, work together, eventually we’ll hold office together I suppose. It gets quite tangled up when you think about all the connections, not even including blood relations. That part is an exquisite mess.”  
  
Carver cleared his throat, ignoring his heart thundering in his chest. “Oh yeah?”  
  
Rilienus seemed to sense Carver’s unease, turning to face him. “Dorian mentioned you’ve met Felix, but I suppose you don’t know any of the rest of us.”  
  
Carver nodded. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke. “Yeah, we met last year.” He didn’t think about Felix standing in front of a lake like this, looking as wrecked as Carver felt.  
  
Rilienus watched him, looking for more of an answer, and receiving none, he unfurled himself until he leaned into Carver’s space. “Well, I, for one, am glad you attended. This party would be dreadfully dull without any dashing Fereldans to appreciate.”  
  
Carver huffed. “Glad I can fill that role for you.”  
  
Rilienus’ eyes dropped to Carver’s mouth, then flittered back up. “I think you can do more than that,” he murmured.  
  
Carver felt something rising in his chest, but it wasn’t what he expected, no hot arousal or nervous excitement. He slid away from beside Rilienus and the heat suddenly seemed unbearable.  
  
“Hey, want to go swimming?” Carver started unbuttoning his shirt and slipping off his shoes before he even finished the question.  
  
Rilienus pouted like he’d just been denied a sweet. “Swimming? Why would we do that? The lake is so dirty.”  
  
Carver shrugged and pulled his shirt off, moving to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants. “Seems fun. There’s a lake, it’s hot outside, it’ll be fun.”  
  
RIlienus leaned back onto his elbows and his lips pursed into a sneer. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” When Carver stood in just his undershirt and boxers, Rilienus finally smirked. “I’ll just enjoy the show.”  
  
Carver laughed. “By all means.” He waded into the water and sighed in satisfaction. The chill against his overheated skin helped draw his thoughts away from deceitful Tevinters and back to relaxing with the sun and water and quiet of nature.  
  
  
— —

  
  
Carver fidgeted in his seat, pulling at the collar of his starched shirt. It was the same one he wore two nights ago, since he had a limited amount of formalwear in his closet. Each of the Tevinters wore a brand new stunning ensemble every time he saw them, and Carver felt their judgment at his only having one good suit.  
  
Not to mention the glares he was getting from Aquinea and the cold shoulder from Halward. He could blame that one on Rilienus, who sneakily switched seats with Rylen so he could sit beside Carver instead. Rilienus wasn’t feeding him or stealing food from his plate, but he certainly wasn’t subtle about his flirting either. Regardless, his actions earned Carver the displeasure of the hosts, and Carver somewhat regretted letting this happen.  
  
The only good part about the display was watching Felix slowly lose his cold, calm demeanor. Carver never managed to catch his eye, but whenever Rilienus would lean over and whisper something to him, Carver could see Felix’s knuckles whiten on his fork or his jaw clench. Not that he was watching Felix either. Of course not. His eyes just sometimes happened to land on Felix when the man spoke or laughed or moved.  
  
Thankfully, Aquinea was an adept hostess who managed to keep the conversation light and flowing through the entire dinner, despite her obvious dislike of Carver.  
  
“Gereon,” Dorian said, “I’m interested to know what you’re working on as of late. Are you still exploring the physics of time magic?”  
  
Gereon smiled widely, and Carver could see the family resemblance between him and his son. They had the same long nose and high cheekbones, but Gereon’s age gave him deeper wrinkles and fuller cheeks. “Yes, I’ve made several breakthroughs this year that have provided new insight that I didn’t expect. Felix has helped me a bit with my research.” Gereon looked over at Felix and beamed. Felix dipped his head in acknowledgment.  
  
“He has been busy with wedding preparations, but he always makes time for me, don’t you, my boy?” Gereon’s pride in his son was evident in every line of his body. “I must say, I’m not looking forward to when you leave Minrathous for the country estate, but even I recognize you need a little time alone to start a family, right?” He winked, and the others around the table laughed at Felix’s ensuing red face. Carver gripped his fork tighter, smiled along with the others.  
  
Livia smiled and blushed prettily, glanced to her fiancee from under lowered eyelashes. “You’ll come and visit, Gereon. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She laced her fingers with Felix’s on the table, a declaration.  
  
Carver set his fork down and clenched one fist on his knee under the table. His cheeks hurt.  
  
“When is the wedding?” Athanir Tilani asked.  
  
Felix shifted in his seat. “Likely next spring.”  
  
Livia laughed, a bright sound like bells ringing. It was beautiful and Carver hated her. “My dear Felix has been just so busy this year with his thesis. It’s much more challenging than we expected, so he’s delayed graduation a few times.” She leaned over to him and her eyes shone with adoration. “You’ll be Doctor Alexius soon enough, and then I’ll be Mrs. Alexius.”  
  
“Tell us, Felix,” Mae said, placing her chin in one hand, “what exactly is delaying your thesis? Having trouble with picking the right one?”  
  
Felix stared at her, eyes hard like steely flint, before clearing his throat. “Not at all. The subject is just right. The timing, less so.”  
  
Mae hummed and lifted her glass to her lips. Dorian snorted. “How much timing could there be? It’s theoretical mathematics. I think you either figure it out, or you don’t. If you have to delay it so much, maybe it’s time to pick something else?”  
  
Felix glared at Dorian, and Carver felt like he was missing something.  
  
“My thesis is perfectly fine, and I have no intention of changing anything. I’ll finish it in due time. Just. Drop it.”  
  
Dorian exchanged a glance with Cullen and went back to his meal. Others at the table had moved on with their conversation, and few seemed bothered by the weird tension.  
  
Carver managed to take a few bites of his meal without any real thought, not wanting to know what had just passed between the old friends. He wondered what took Felix so long in finishing his research, considering how much time he’d put into it already.  
  
Rylen nudged Carver in the side with a sharp elbow. “What in the Maker’s name was that all about?”  
  
Carver shrugged. “Tevinters seem to have entire conversations without talking about what they really mean. I’d lose my bloody mind.”  
  
Rylen snorted and shook his head. “You’re telling me. Before dinner, I got roped into a conversation with Livia and Alexius and the Magister, and it was the most bizarre thing ever. It sounded like they were talking about the weather but Alexius got all agitated for some reason.”  
  
Carver hummed and drank deeply from his wine glass.  
  
“Gotta admit,” Rylen continued, “she’s a catch. Seems nice enough for a Tevinter, but damn. She’s on the board of this co-op in the city to help elves living in poverty. She’s certainly a force to be reckoned with, and sexy too.”  
  
Carver shifted in his seat, drawing Rilienus’ attention again.  
  
“Livia is a darling, isn’t she. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s had a good heart.” Rilienus’ foot brushed against Carver’s under the table. “She’s not my type, but she’s had the attention of every eligible male since she left the Circle.”  
  
“Alexius is a lucky guy,” Rylen said, eyes gone vacant staring somewhere across the table from them.  
  
Carver kept his own eyes on his plate, and hummed noncommittally. They were perfect together, and everyone seemed to agree. They were just bloody perfect together.  
  
Carver hadn’t heard a bad word about Livia during the entirety of his trip. Everyone agreed how beautiful she was, how charming and sweet, how kindhearted and pleasant to be around. Carver wanted to hate her, but even he could tell she didn’t deserve it. His feelings and Felix’s secrecy weren’t her fault, and she would be happy with him.  
  
Rilienus leaned over, lips almost brushing Carver’s ear. “Where’d you go, Carver?”  
  
He snapped out of his thoughts to find Rilienus close enough to feel the breath on his face. “What?”  
  
“You disappeared for a minute, and I’m wondering if you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”  
  
Carver’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Oh? What’s that.”  
  
Rilienus’s eyes dipped down to Carver’s mouth and then back up. “Three guesses, and the first two don’t count.” His tongue slid out to wet his bottom lip, and Carver tracked the movement.  
  
A clatter of silverware drew his attention back to the table, where Felix had stood. “Please, excuse me for just a moment. I’m not feeling so well.” He did look pale, Carver noted, and the table was silent as he left the room.  
  
A few heads swiveled to stare at Carver, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from doing something rash. Rilienus snorted and leaned back into his own seat. “He’s not usually the one quite so dramatic. That title belongs to Dorian, I believe.”  
  
Carver heard Dorian respond in a half-insulted tone, but he couldn’t keep track of the words. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop and counted to thirty, waiting for the others to settle back into their conversations before he stood.  
  
“I have to pee,” he said at Rilienus’ inquiring look. Rilienus raised an eyebrow, blatantly looking for an invitation, and Carver shook his head before leaving the room.  
  
He didn’t need to look very hard to find Felix. In a hallway not far from the dining room, Felix leaned against a wall with his hands covering his face and breathing deeply.  
  
Felix looked up as Carver approached, his face for a split second bright and hopeful, before it slid into the cold mask that Carver hated so much, the only expression he’d gotten from the man since arriving. “Excuse me,” he said, words cold and clipped, “I thought this would be a private spot alone. Were you looking for somewhere to tryst with Rilienus?”  
  
Carver’s brow came down and his hands clenched and released while he reined in his temper. “What if I was?”  
  
“I’m sure there’s a bathroom around here somewhere. Is that public enough for you both? I’m not sure it is, after your display at the table.”  
  
He’d never heard that tone from Felix before: bitter and vitriolic. Carver opened and closed his fists again, trying to regain his balance. “What’s your problem, anyway?”  
  
Felix rolled his eyes and turned his head away, looking back toward the dining room. “I don’t know what makes you think I have a _problem_. I’m perfectly fine.”  
  
Carver crossed his arms across his chest, clenching his jaw before speaking. “Storming out, the snippy tone, the weirdness at the table. It doesn’t seem like you.”  
  
Carver had wanted Felix to look at him, before, but not like this. When Felix turned his gaze on Carver, his eyes filled with restrained fury. “You don’t know me. Don’t act like… Like we spent one weekend together and we’re in _love_ or something.”  
  
Something inside him broke at the words. He was right, Felix was absolutely right, so why did it hurt so much?  
  
Carver unfolded his arms. “You’re right. I guess that was just a mask, another one of your damn Tevinter masks to hide any true feelings. This must be the real you, is that it?”  
  
Felix scowled and looked away again, mute. Carver felt the anger rise in his chest again, pain overlaid by rejection. “I guess so. The real Felix Alexius: a lackey to his father, in love with a beautiful shallow woman, well dressed and put together like a Magister should be and lacking any kind of depth below that. You’re right, one weekend of playacting means nothing in the long run.”  
  
That seemed to hit. Felix screwed his eyes shut and rubbed at the space between his eyebrows. Carver felt a rush of satisfaction at seeing his jibe land and a matching hurt bloomed in his own chest.  “What are you even doing here, Carver? Why did you follow me out of the dining room? Why did you even come to Tevinter in the first place? Looking to score with another shallow Tevinter, is that it? Is Rilienus more to your liking?” Felix looked at him again, and Carver felt pinned in place. “He’s a snake, Carver, and that’s just like you, throwing yourself at someone you know _nothing_ about just for a pretty face—“  
  
“If I was here just for a pretty face,” Carver said and took a step forward, moving into Felix’s space until Felix had to tilt his head back to maintain their heated eye contact, “do you think I’d be out here in the hallway with you?”  
  
Felix’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Carver watched his eyes dart down to Carver’s mouth, and Carver couldn’t help mirroring him. Felix’s mouth pursed in a tight line, and Carver wanted nothing more than to suck the pout right off his face, to kiss him until his lips were pliant and wet under his.  
  
Felix shoved at Carver’s shoulders, catching him unaware and he stumbled back. Just as he grunted a short, “What are—“ he was cut off by Felix’s mouth on his.  
  
Carver gripped Felix’s tunic in sweaty hands, pulling him in as Felix’s hands scrabbled over Carver’s shoulders. This was nothing like their previous encounters; there was no softness or tenderness, no caring or affection, just anger and fear and a blistering need for closeness. Felix pressed Carver against the opposite wall, pushing and grasping, and something inside him raged.  
  
Someone walked past the little alcove where they stood, and at the sound of footsteps, Felix ripped himself away. “Not here,” he whispered against Carver’s mouth, and all but dragged him in the opposite direction they both came. Felix seemed to know his way around, and after turning down three different hallways, he found an acceptable room. He threw open the door, glanced around inside, and pulled Carver behind him.  
  
Carver only got a brief glimpse of where they ended up, a large room with books covering every wall except for a dark fireplace between two large windows, before Felix slammed him up against the door and began their vicious kissing anew.  
  
“Fee, Fee, Fee,” Carver breathed, and pressed open mouthed kisses down Felix’s cheek and throat. Felix was hot and firm underneath him, so much better than the memory Carver had kept close for so long. Carver slid his hand down Felix’s chest to the front of his pants, tracing a thumb down the growing erection he found there. “Please,” he whispered, “can I?” Felix nodded, a harsh wet sigh dragged from his throat.  
  
Carver dropped to his knees, hitting the cold marble beneath him with a _crack_. The pain registered dimly, but the sight of Felix’s hips in front of him wiped all thoughts except for _Felix_ and _fuck_. His hands spanned the width of his hips, squeezing and confirming that this was real, this was here.  
  
He scrambled with the fabric of Felix’s pants, unfamiliar with the style. Carver cursed under his breath, and after a moment of fumbling, Felix sighed and pushed Carver’s hands away. Felix freed his erection, pulled his pants just below his balls, one hand holding his cock at the base and the other sliding through Carver’s hair, pulling him closer.  
  
Carver didn’t need the encouragement. As soon as Felix’s cock came into view, he leaned forward, swallowing it down and feeling his own cock throb where it was still trapped in his pants.  
  
This was everything. Carver relished the stretch of his lips, the smoothness of Felix’s hips under his fingers, the musky salt smell of Felix’s skin. His desire consumed him from within, an all-encompassing need to devour and be devoured by Felix. It was unlike any of the sex he’d had since he saw Felix last, powerful and passionate and precarious. Every moan and whimper Felix gave incited his blood further, proof that he could still do this to Felix, could still feel something other than resentment and bitterness.  
  
Carver pulled off Felix’s cock and opened his eyes. Saliva dripped down his lower lip, and he flicked out his tongue to catch every last taste of Felix. He looked up, and that familiar punch in his chest knocked his breath away. Felix’s eyes were dark and full of emotion, a little pained but dilated and dark and entirely focused on him. The gaze invigorated him, sent a fresh wave of lust and need through him.  
  
“Fuck my mouth,” Carver said, voice raspy and rough. He watched Felix’s throat work as he swallowed. The fist in Carver’s hair clenched, and Carver’s eyes closed again instinctually. “Yes,” he breathed.  
  
“Yeah.” Carver heard Felix speak and then felt the tip of his cock push past his lips. Carver opened his mouth as wide as he could, tilting his head back and a shiver ran down his spine.  
  
The first few strokes were tentative, feeling out how much Carver could take before Felix set a brutal pace. His hips pistoned in and out, and if Carver thought their kiss earlier lacked tenderness, this was on the edge of violence. His other hand moved to the back of Carver’s head, holding him exactly where he wanted, and Carver never felt more right. He wanted Felix to hold him in place, to use him exactly how he wanted, to prove that he wanted Carver. His hands clenched on Felix’s hips, fingertips forming bruises underneath his clothes. Spit smeared around his lips, tears formed in his eyes, his jaw started to ache.  
  
This is all he’d wanted since he’d arrived: Felix claiming him, marking Carver as his own, his entire focus narrowed to where Carver took him inside. To be the center of his universe again, to feel that sense of right and yes that he’d missed since they’d broken so messily.  
  
When Felix’s hips started to lose their rhythm and his breathing grew harsh and arrhythmic, Carver tapped him on the hip. Felix pulled back, tugged Carver’s head away with it, fingers still threaded in his hair. The grip on his scalp sent a bolt of heat through him, and Carver felt possessed, wanted like he’d never felt with another partner. His neck bent back, exposed himself to Felix, completely vulnerable.  
  
“Fee.” His voice sounded like tires on gravel, fucked out and rough and gritty.  
  
His fingers tightened again in Carver’s hair. Carver wiped his slick mouth with the back of his hand and shakily rose from his knees. He leaned in to press their mouths together again, needing another taste of him, unable to get enough. Voices in the hallway behind him made him freeze, and Felix’s eyes widened, a glimmer of panic growing in their dark depths.  
  
Livia’s light voice filtered in through the door followed by a masculine laugh, and Carver watched Felix’s face change, something soft and tender and entirely at odds with the roughness he’d just given to Carver. Carver had been on the end of that expression once, had been the target of Felix’s — not love, definitely not, but at least some affection. Now, it was reserved for Livia.  
  
Carver’s brow came down and his mouth thinned. The bubble of _something_ that had cautiously grown in his belly now turned sour and unpleasant. He shoved at Felix’s shoulder, pushing him away from the door and onto a flat expanse of pillows laid out before a low table. Felix yelped as his backside hit the cushions, and he leaned up onto his elbows.  
  
“Do you wish she were here right now?” Carver hissed, unkindly. Felix opened his mouth to reply but Carver talked over him, pulling his own pants open. “Are you thinking about _her_ right now?”  
  
“Not at all,” he whispered. Felix shook his head and his eyes tracked the growing expanse of bare skin, but Carver couldn’t let go of the jealousy that overcame him. He knelt above Felix’s hips, grabbing both their exposed cocks in one hand. They moaned in unison, and Felix’s hands scrabbled across his shoulders. Carver’s back bowed, and he shot out a hand to lean on above Felix’s shoulder.  
  
Felix breathed through his open mouth, gasping and shuddering with red cheeks and eyes almost entirely black. “Yes, Carver,” he said, and his voice sounded stripped bare and wrecked, almost matching how Carver himself felt at that moment.  
  
“Does she do this for you?” Felix flinched beneath him, turned his head to avoid Carver’s eyes, and the beast inside him roared at the deflection. “Does she jerk you off? Does she suck you as good as me?”  
  
Carver’s hand worked them faster, pulling away once to spit into his hand, giving them enough friction to feel it. Felix’s breathing sped up, a dark blush crept up his neck under the high collar of his tunic, and Carver relished the visible proof of how he affected Felix.  
  
“Do you think about—“ Carver choked before he could say it, could ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.    
  
Felix finally met his eyes, panting and red-faced and Carver couldn’t handle it. He bent until his face is pressed to the join of Felix’s neck and shoulder, and he bit down, just shy of drawing blood, inhaling the clean earth and cloves and _Felix_.  
  
Felix let out a little noise, and Carver felt the hitch in his breathing. “No marks,” Felix whispered.  
  
The words sent a lance of pain through him, settling uneasy in his stomach. “No marks? Don’t want your pretty little wife to know you’re unfaithful?” Carver lapped at the spot before grazing his teeth across it. “That you’ve been with someone else, that she can’t give it to you like I can?”  
  
Felix whined, his nails dragged down Carver’s back leaving welts that Carver could feel, and Carver lost it. Sparks filled his vision where he squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure sizzled through him, burning every feeling in its wake until he felt nothing except the heat of Felix’s skin against his. He bent to smash their mouths together and came, spilling across his hand and their cocks.  
  
Felix’s hips worked for another few seconds before he followed Carver over the edge, a keening whine muffled by Carver’s lips. He went limp beneath Carver, tension disappearing in an instant.  
  
Carver collapsed onto Felix, pressing his face into Felix’s neck, breathing heavy and ragged in the silence of the room. The only other sounds were Felix’s equally harsh breaths and the quick beat of his heart beneath Carver’s cheek.  
  
Long moments passed, and Carver didn’t want to move. Carver kept his eyes shut, memorized every feeling and sensation so he wouldn’t forget, avoiding any thought of the future because whatever came next would hurt, one way or the other.  
  
Eventually, Felix squirmed beneath him, and Carver exhaled heavily. He sat up, and Felix followed, pressed a hand against where his teeth had left a bruise in the skin before Felix had stopped him. Felix kept his gaze averted, and under his hand, a white glow bloomed, then dissipated. When he moved his hand, the mark was gone.  
  
Carver looked away. He dug a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his hand off, eliminating any evidence of them.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” The words were a surprise even to Carver.  
  
Felix didn’t respond. His eyes stayed on his hands, twisting and pulling at the fingers in his nervousness.  
  
“Fee,” he said, and Felix’s flinch made Carver hurt. “You don’t have to do this. You’re not happy here.” He kept his voice gentle, all the anger from earlier having drained out of him, leaving only longing in its wake. “Why are you doing this?”  
  
“You don’t understand.” Felix’s voice was barely audible, a whisper in the already quiet room. “You know how much family means. You’d do anything for your sister. It’s the same for me.”  
  
Carver shook his head, though Felix still didn’t look at him. “Not at the expense of who you are. Not for your happiness!”  
  
“Weren’t you the one at the opera who said Floriana should be with the rich asshole instead of the poor Soporati? Awfully hypocritical of you.” Felix shifted his clothing as best he could while still seated, fixed his collar and his cold mask of indifference slid back into place.  
  
“Maybe I was right. You deserve each other. If keeping your legacy and money intact is what matters, then I hope that’s what you get.” He felt hollowed out, scraped open and raw. Did he really expect one weekend to change Felix’s whole perspective of himself and his society? Stupid, so stupid.  
  
The clock above the fireplace chimed, and both men startled. Carver stared at Felix, memorizing the slump in his shoulders and the sated flush in his cheeks. He stood, tucked himself back into his pants and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry................


	9. saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wedding reception, carver and felix talk (eventually)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it.... I finished this..... I am amazed because I didn't know if it would happen (especially not before I start nanowrimo, i'm impressed with myself).
> 
> special thank you to the fever group chat rachel4revenge, earlgreyer and carverly, because honestly it wouldn't have happened without you three, but also thanks to those of you who comment and kept up through this long ass story because without you I would probably have given up.
> 
> there may be one more chapter after this but it would just be an epilogue, maybe one more wedding (because you haven't had enough yet, right?) so here have some feelings!

Carver didn’t think he could feel any worse, and yet here he was. Without a hangover or even alcohol to blame for it. No, this was all him. He tossed and turned all night replaying the scene with Felix in his mind. He heard himself repeating the worst things to Felix, felt each jibe as it landed like he was hurting himself.   
  
He couldn’t look himself in the mirror, and tying his tie became a much more difficult task. His fingers wouldn’t cooperate, thick and clumsy, just like him. Felix had hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to be used like Carver had done the night before. Carver clenched his fist to keep from putting it through a wall or a mirror.  
  
Carver held the fabric of his tie loosely in his hand, giving up at his attempts to put the damn thing on. A gong rang somewhere in the house, signalling something. He hadn’t listened closely enough at the wedding rehearsal yesterday, so distracted by Rilienus’ flirting and Felix’s agitation. He closed the door to his bedroom and started towards the wing where the wedding party prepared. He rubbed a hand down his face and scratched at his beard, trying to will away the gloom and guilt settling over him.  
  
Footsteps on the plush carpet came from behind him, and Carver turned to find Rilienus approaching.  
  
The man looked devastatingly gorgeous. His black tunic fell to his knees and a long piece of patterned fabric hung around his neck. His dark hair was pulled back into a tight sleek bun, with two tendrils falling around to frame his face. His kohl-rimmed eyes traveled up and down Carver’s body, and his full lips turned up into a smirk. He looked put together and posh, aware of how attractive he was, but Carver couldn’t bring himself to care. He just felt wretched, flirting with him while preoccupied with thoughts of another man.   
  
“Well hello there,” Rilienus said, sidling up to Carver and sliding a hand around his waist. Carver shifted away, and Rilienus’ smirk turned into a pout. “What’s wrong, darling?”  
  
“Nothing,” Carver mumbled and kept walking down the hallway. Rilienus followed.   
  
“I looked for you last night when you didn’t return to dinner. I came by your room but you didn’t answer. I was hoping we could get to know each other a little bit better.”   
  
He had heard the knock on his door, but ignored it. He had felt bad enough for everything that had happened, and sleeping with Rilienus wouldn’t have made any of it better. “I, uh. Went to bed right after. We had an early morning today, and all that.”  
  
Rilienus raised one dark eyebrow, clearly skeptical but unwilling to call Carver out. “I was quite dismayed. You really disappointed me, teasing me with all that luscious skin,” he trailed a hand down Carver’s chest, “yesterday at the lake. I was hoping to get a closer look.”   
  
Carver moved a step back, and Rilienus huffed and set his hands on his hips. His mouth pinched up into an impatient moue, his pouting lips a clear attempt to convince Carver. “Look, you’re attractive, and if things were different, I’d be interested, but I’m not. I’m sorry.”  
  
Rilienus blinked. “You… you’re not interested? Whyever not?”  
  
Carver shifted on his feet. “There’s… I’m still hung up on someone, and it wouldn’t be fair to you or to him if this between us went any further.”  
  
Rilienus narrowed his eyes, staring at Carver as if testing his veracity, before he scowled. “You should have said something earlier, and I wouldn’t have—“ He huffed and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
“I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to, I tried, but.” Carver ran his hand through his hair again. “I just can’t.”  
  
Rilienus’ dark eyes felt hot on his skin, and Carver squirmed under the scrutiny. Finally, he sighed loudly and let his arms drop to his sides. “Fine. If you’re not willing, then I suppose I can’t be too upset. But if I may ask, it’s someone here, correct? Who is it?”  
  
Carver looked away. “I, er. I shouldn’t. I don’t want to make things here worse for him.”  
  
“But somehow you don’t mind making things uncomfortable for me, do you.” Rilienus’ eyes narrowed and his lips thinned out. “You shouldn’t have led me on, like that. Especially if you came here looking for another man? How rude of you!”  
  
“I didn’t come here for him, I came for Cullen! And all we did was flirt, that’s not a commitment. You can’t hold that over my head like I purposely hurt you.”  
  
Rilienus rolled his eyes. “Just like a Fereldan, to tease with no intention of following through. I should have known.”  
  
Carver rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off the headache that lurked all morning and now seemed to make its way to the forefront. “Fine. Whatever. Just, let me get ready for this in peace. You’re a handsome guy, I’m sure you can find someone else to fall into bed with.”  
  
“Your loss.” Rilienus scoffed and strode away, not looking back.   
  
Carver collapsed onto a bench a few yards away from where he knew Cullen’s prep room was. He bent with his elbows on his knees and pressed his face into his hands.   
  
Only 24 more hours, he told himself. He’d be on a plane back to Denerim at this time tomorrow, and he’d never look back.   
  
Muted chatter wafted down the hallway, lively and happy as friends and family prepared their loved ones for a beautiful wedding. He could hear Dorian’s laughter ring out, and Carver wondered who was in his dressing room. Mae, probably. Felix, very likely.   
  
Would he be wearing the same suit he brought to Bethany’s wedding? He had looked so posh, the deep burgundy of his suit likely ridiculous on anyone else but so attractive on him, and Carver felt a little flame erupt in his belly. Felix, smiling at him from his seat in the pews, the jolt of heat and want and _yes this is right_ that he felt as their eyes met.   
  
 He didn’t look up as people walked past him, thankfully either not seeing him or not caring enough to interrupt him from the memory.   
  
Felix had looked at him, had really seen him. He hadn’t watched anything else during the whole ceremony, kept his eyes on Carver the entire time and it had felt real.   
  
“There you are!”   
  
_Shit_. He’d been found. Not that he’d been hiding, as he was sitting in a public hallway, but he had hoped for a few more minutes of privacy. He only raised his head when two pairs of feet stopped in front of him where he stared at the floor. The woman’s heels tapped on the ground impatiently, and the smaller tennis shoes were pink and covered in glitter.   
  
“Carver Hawke. What are you doing out here?”  
  
He looked up into Mia’s face and found exactly what he expected: anger, concern, and a motherly dedication to seeing this ceremony go well.   
  
“Uh. Just waiting. Y’know. For the ceremony to start.” He sat up straight and pushed a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t too badly ruffled. He regretted avoiding the mirror this morning.  
  
“I’m going to be the flower girl!” Sophie bounced on her toes as she announced her excitement.   
  
Carver smiled at her, the expression feeling more natural with the girl’s enthusiasm. “You’ll be the best flower girl, Soph.”  
  
She beamed and spun around in a circle, the skirt of her frilly dress ballooning around her skinny legs.   
  
“Carver.” Mia’s tone was softer, the undercurrent of anger still present but more concerned for his well-being. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Carver dropped his eyes and shrugged. “Nothing. ‘M fine.” Could everyone see how messed up he was?   
  
Mia sighed. Sophie climbed into his lap and Carver hadn’t the heart to push her off.   
  
“You look sad,” the girl said. Carver tried to fake a smile for her, but even Sophie could tell his heart wasn’t in it. How could he be happy and upbeat when all he’d done the entire weekend was hurt the people around him?   
  
He tried to shrug it off. “I am, a little.”   
  
Mia sat down beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
Carver shook his head. “No.” He could feel her gaze on the side of his face, and the words spilled out. “I just want this weekend to be over.”   
  
“Why? We get cake and dancing and music!” Sophie’s excitement bubbled up, making even the space around him seem a little brighter than it had been before.   
  
“Yeah, those are really good things.” His chest tightened a bit. “It’s just been hard for me.”   
  
Mia watched him silently, and somehow the story started spilling out despite his desire to keep it bottled up. He told her about Bethany’s wedding, what Felix had kept from him and the feelings he developed anyway, the cold shoulder he’d received in Tevinter, the terse handful of words they’d exchanged over the whole weekend. He managed to clean it up to make it toddler-safe, but expressive gestures and eye contact gave Mia enough context to follow.  
  
“I just, I hate seeing him unhappy with Livia but what am I supposed to do? I’m just a poor a— jerk from an entirely different world, and there’s no way it could work.”  
  
“Have you told him all this?”  
  
Carver’s laugh was entirely devoid of amusement, and he ran his free hand through his beard. “Course not, that would be a smart and probably healthy thing to do. I fu—“ he looked down at Sophie, “I saw him last night after dinner— well, during dinner, I guess, when he, y’know, ran off.” Mia rolled her eyes and Carver’s cheeks heated. “So I followed him and said some pretty awful things, and I can’t imagine why he would ever want to talk to me again.”  
  
Mia’s blue eyes stared holes through him. Carver felt flayed alive, like everything he had was on display and ready to be used against him. Any weakness he’d ever shown had been exploited by someone, Garrett, his mother, even Felix last night.   
  
“Mister Carver,” Sophie said. “Do you love him?”  
  
Carver paused. “I…” He swallowed. “It’s complicated.”  
  
Sophie shook her head, her blonde-gold hair flying around. “No it’s not. Just tell him you love him.”  
  
Carver’s throat tightened. “It’s not that easy.”  
  
“Well it should be. Last year in school Jimmy wouldn’t let me play with his Warden action figures, and I wanted to be the griffon, so I hit him, and he pulled my pigtails, and Miss Mahariel put us in time-out. I told him I wanted to be the griffon and it hurt my feelings when he said no, and he said sorry.”  
  
“What did we learn?” Mia prompted.  
  
“Talking is better than hitting,” Sophie said in a sing-song voice.  
  
Carver swallowed. “That’s a good lesson Sophie, but I don’t know if it will work for me. We didn’t hit each other.”  
  
“But he hurt your feelings.”  
  
Carver clenched his teeth and ignored the prickling behind his eyes. “Yeah. And I hurt his.”  
  
“So just say you’re sorry.”  
  
He nodded. “You’re right, sweetheart.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and avoided Mia’s eyes as he lifted her from his lap back onto the floor. “Is this the pretty dress you’re going to wear today?”  
  
Sophie’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah!” Carver couldn’t focus on her excited chattering about her dress and the flowers she’d carry in the ceremony.  
  
“Let’s go finish getting ready, baby.” Mia lifted Sophie into her arms and shifted her weight to her hip. Her eyes pinned Carver in place. “Carver, just go talk to him. I think it would be more enlightening than you expect.”   
  
Carver dipped his head and turned up the corners of his mouth, the imitation of a smile rigid on his face. “Yeah.”   
  
“At least go find Cullen. He’s flipping out and won’t accept my help. And go put on your tux. Also, do something about your hair.”  
  
“Yes, Mom,” he huffed.   
  
Mia rolled her eyes and started towards the guest wing, and Sophie turned in her mother’s arms to wave at Carver as they left. He raised a hand to wave until they were gone, then he rubbed at his eyes and stood.  
  
He shoved his hands in his pockets and started slowly down the hall to where Cullen was supposed to be getting dressed, staring at the carpet and trying not to think.  
  
 _Talking is better than hitting,_ Sophie had said. _Just tell him how you feel_.   
  
And then what? Carver would lay down his feelings at Felix’ feet, only for Felix to throw them back in his face. That’s what Carver would do, had he said the same things.   
  
But what if…   
  
His introspection didn’t last long. Dorian’s prep room was across the hallway from Cullen’s, and as Carver approached, someone left Dorian’s room.   
  
Felix’s eyes widened as he recognized Carver, then they dulled again in that way Carver hated.   
  
Carver wanted to speak. He wanted to say _I’m sorry, I’m an asshole, all I want is for you to be happy even if it’s not with me_. He wanted to say _I’m so jealous I can hardly breathe_. He wanted to say _the three people I’ve been with in the past year couldn’t match up to you, no one can and I’m afraid you’ve broken me forever_.  
  
Felix wore a different outfit than the suit he brought to Bethany’s wedding. The dark bronze tunic fell to his knees, silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar. For all the changes, it still hit Carver right in the chest as he looked at him. His brown eyes glittered, the mage lights strung along the walls giving him an ethereal look. Carver couldn’t breathe, it was like the last time all over again but instead of hope there was loss.   
  
After a long moment of silence, Felix’s eyes dropped to the ground. Carver wondered if he was thinking about his own upcoming wedding, or Bethany’s wedding, or something else entirely. Felix straightened his shoulders and his chin rose into the regal demeanor so common with these Tevinters. He walked past Carver, not looking at him again, and headed down the hallway the way Carver had walked up.  
  
Carver turned to watch Felix’s back, not able to take his eyes away until he had turned a corner.  
  
— —   
  
“Enough of this!”   
  
Between one slow blink and the next, Cassandra appeared on the other side of the table from him. Arms folded across her chest, dark eyes narrowed, lips pursed in a displeased frown. Varric dawdled beside her, clearly not enjoying his position as Cassandra’s back up.  
  
“Carver.”   
  
At her tone, Carver instinctively sat up in his seat and straightened his shoulders. “Uh, hi. Cass. What’s up?”  
  
“You need to get your shit together.”   
  
He blinked rapidly. “What.”  
  
She glared. “You heard me.”  
  
He looked down at the half-full glass in his hands and back up to her, searching for an explanation. He’d been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, quiet in the midst of the reception celebration. “I haven’t even done anything.”   
  
Somewhere to his left, Varric snorted. “Not yet, maybe.”  
  
Carver rolled his eyes and looked back to the dance floor where couples bounced to upbeat music from the band. The giant tents had been set up this morning in the garden, with a dance floor, a buffet and open bar, and tables to seat the hundreds of guests. There had been an overflow reception inside the house, and the paths of the gardens decorated to lead people out and away from the party. It was gorgeous and over the top and so gaudily Tevinter.   
  
Cassandra put her hands on the table and leaned down until Carver had to meet her eyes. “No, you need to listen. You’ve been moping and pouting, and Varric told me what happened at Bethany’s wedding, so don’t try and get out of it. You’re hurting, but you’re acting like a child. Stop. It.”  
  
“I didn’t—“ Cassandra narrowed her eyes and Carver huffed in indignation. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to babysit me and tell me I’m—“  
  
“Then stop acting like a child.”  
  
Carver burned with shame. She wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t want to admit that. He had tried during the entire ceremony not to ruin everything, tried not to project his miserable mood onto everyone else, but like the rest of his life, he had failed.   
  
“I don’t care what you need to do, but you must stop this. This is our friend’s wedding, and you don’t get to be miserable and unhappy the entire time.”  
  
“I just…”  
  
“Come with me.” It wasn’t a request. Carver sighed heavily, expressing his frustration and resignation, but Cassandra just rolled her eyes at him. She led him out of the ballroom into the guest wing of the house.   
  
Cassandra walked a couple of steps ahead of them, and Varric fell to his side. “Hawke, I want to apologize.”   
  
Carver narrowed his eyes. “Why?”  
  
He watched Cassandra’s back in front of them and wouldn’t meet Carver’s eyes. “I knew about Felix, back at Bethany’s wedding, and I should have told you instead of Garrett.”  
  
It took a moment for Carver to process the words. “Wait. You knew?” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to gape at Varric. “You knew the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”   
  
Varric turned and came back to where Carver halted, waving his hands to try and calm him. “Don’t shout, you know how much Tevinters love gossip. And yeah. Since Mae is my cousin, I’ve known about Felix for a while. We met briefly once, but at a party like Mae throws, I didn’t remember much of it the next morning. It wasn’t until I did a little research that I remembered who he was, and that he was engaged.”  
  
Carver pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he always the last to find out anything? “So you told Garrett? That was a dick move.”  
  
“Yeah, it was. I didn’t think… I should have known he’d make a scene like that.” Varric shook his head. “Love the guy, but sometimes he doesn’t think things through. Especially not for family.”   
  
“So, what. You’re apologizing by taking me to some mysterious room in the house?”   
  
“Yes, and if you weren’t such a stubborn little shit, it might work.”  
  
Carver huffed in indignation. “Hey, I’m not—“  
  
Varric raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Okay, maybe I can be a stubborn shit. But whatever. It doesn’t matter. What’s between me and Felix is done. I’m over it.”  
  
“Kid,” Varric said, “if you really think that, then I’ve got a bridge to sell you.”  
  
Carver glared at him. “You’re a dick, you know that?”   
  
Cassandra made a noise in her throat, and they began walking again, not speaking until they came to a cracked open doorway, and Carver heard voices inside. He turned a questioning look to Varric, who put one finger over his lips and tapped an ear. _Listen_.  
  
“Please, Felix, just listen to me.”  
  
“I just don’t understand, Livia.”   
  
Carver froze. Their voices sounded soft and intimate, and Carver knew if he walked past them he’d interrupt whatever was happening. He couldn’t break their moment, but he didn’t want to stand and listen. His paralyzed indecision made the choice for him.   
  
“I know, and I’m sorry for that, but you have to believe me. When you meet that person who is exactly right for you, it’s like nothing else matters. Like, everything falls away except for them, the world outside slows down when they smile at you,” Carver heard the smile in Livia’s voice, and something within him twisted. “Fee, I’m sorry.”  
  
Silence for a moment. The shuffle of weight shifting on the carpet but not moving away. Carver tried to relax his shoulders and leaned against the wall just before the corner. Bethany’s voice in his head scolded him. _Eavesdrop and you may hear something you don’t want to._  
  
“So that’s it then. All of this, everything our parents have done, thrown away for another man?”  
  
Carver’s mouth dropped open. _That_ wasn’t what he expected.   
  
“It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do, Fee, so much. But… we’ve been engaged for a long time now. I would be content with you, safe and secure. You’re my best friend. But I’m not in love with you. Look at what those marriages of convenience have done to our parents, sweetheart. They’re miserable, at worst, or unfulfilled and safe at best. Your parents were the exception, can’t you see that? Don’t you want something like what they had?”  
  
Felix didn’t respond. Carver stopped breathing to listen intently, knowing this was invasive and terrible but he couldn’t stop.   
  
“I do,” he finally whispered. “I’m just not strong enough to do it, like you are.”   
  
“Oh, darling.” The sound of clothes rustling together, and Carver imagined they embraced. “When you find them, I’m sure you’ll be brave.”  
  
A choked sound, like a sob, then a sniffle.   
  
Carver looked away from the door and found himself alone. Cassandra and Varric must have slipped away during their conversation, but Carver had missed it entirely.   
  
  
— —   
  
  
Carver wiped a hand across the foggy mirror, clearing a space where he could see himself. Steam filled the bathroom; water droplets clung to the ends of his hair and beard and beaded on his chest. He looked the same as ever, no physical changes to reveal the emotional distress this weekend had wrought.   
  
A knock sounded at the door. Carver peeked out of the bathroom at it suspiciously. The reception may have still been going on, at least he assumed so with the volume of the music he could hear distantly, but it was late enough to be much past visiting hours. His bedroom was still and silent, clothes strewn across the bed and the floor but unchanged.  
  
He secured the towel around his waist and slowly walked towards the door. Could it be Varric, come to reprimand him for disappearing? Rilienus to try his luck again? He couldn’t imagine anyone else coming to see him at this time of night. Mae, maybe, to shred him to pieces for any number of reasons.   
  
He cracked the door open only wide enough to look out, and had to resist a full body flinch as he saw Felix standing there. Felix looked tired, his clothes uncharacteristically rumpled and face weary. Carver’s hand tightened on the towel, feeling vulnerable in his nakedness all of a sudden.  
  
Felix’s eyes dipped to his chest and a blush rose on his cheeks. He dragged his eyes back up to Carver’s face and they stayed there. “Uh, hi.”  
  
Hi? Really? Carver’s hand tightened on the door to keep from slamming the door in his face. “Hi. What do you want?”  
  
“Can we talk?” Felix’s voice didn’t sound nervous exactly, but it wasn’t confident or cold.   
  
“Have we really not talked enough today? This weekend? Honestly I’m all talked out, and I’m probably not worth another conversation with you.”   
  
Felix grimaced and his eyes dropped to the ground. Some of the tension left his shoulders.   
  
Carver let out a breath, and the fight drained out of him. “Let me just put some clothes on.” He left the door open behind him as he headed back to the bathroom, grabbing whatever sleep pants lay on his bed.  
  
In the privacy of the bathroom, he dressed quickly and looked at himself in the mirror again.   
  
This was it, he promised himself. This would be the last time he’d talk to Felix, hopefully forever. He could move on, find happiness elsewhere in his work and his family and everyone else in his life that thought him worth something. He’d listen to whatever Felix wanted to say, and that would be it.  
  
What did Felix want to say to him? What was there left to say between them? They’d already said the most painful things, words they knew would hit those weak spots and resonate. If Livia broke up with him earlier, Felix probably hurt and wanted to make him hurt in return. As quickly as that thought came to him, Carver dismissed it. That didn’t sound like him, purposely lashing out to hide his own hurt; if anything that was more Carver than Felix, but it seemed like the only possibility.  
  
He thought of the letter Felix had left him after Bethany’s wedding. The distance and impersonal touch had infuriated him then, but now he would have preferred it. Carver never was good with goodbyes.  
  
Carver splashed cold water in his face, wiped the drops from his beard with a hand towel, and mentally braced himself.  
  
He let himself back into his bedroom to find Felix staring out of the window. He’d pulled the heavy drapes back and his gaze was directed where lights and music lit up the gardens. Shadows played across Felix’s face, making his cheeks gaunt and hollow, the bags beneath his eyes deeper.  
  
Carver folded his arms across his bare chest, planted his feet on the ground, braced himself for whatever Felix wanted to say to him. “Well?”  
  
“I never meant to hurt you,” Felix said, “When I met you, my intention never was to lie to you. I just didn’t think it was relevant, and it just… never came up. It’s not my fault that—“  
  
Carver glared at Felix. “Right, it never came up. Not once could you have said, oh by the way I’m engaged to a hot heiress. Somewhere between meeting me on the train and fucking in the hotel room, it just _never came up_. That’s fucking weak and you know it.”  
  
Felix shifted on his feet and his hands twisted in front of him. “It’s not something I like to bring up. We weren’t formally engaged, and I just…” Felix dropped his eyes, stared at Carver’s feet. “I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”  
  
“Why would I have thought different of you?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter now.”  
  
Carver let out a sound of frustration and turned to pace across the room. “Of course not, because that would require talking about things, and we both know how good you are at that.”  
  
“I’m not the only one who was keeping things secret, Carver, and don’t act like you weren’t.”  
  
Carver stared at him. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Felix rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’m the only one who lied. I saw you and Peaches at the wedding, and your mother couldn’t stop gushing over how perfect you both were. How excited she was that you were childhood sweethearts reconnecting.”  
  
Carver laughed, harsh and humorless sound. “Really? Me and Peaches? That’s just…” Carver shook his head. “That’s just rich coming from you. So, what. I’m dating Peaches, left her behind so I could hook up with a stranger at this wedding?” Felix’s eyes flashed and his shoulders tensed even further, as if readying himself for a fight. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m doing exactly what you did: leaving behind a woman you don’t particularly like, sleeping with a stranger, just for kicks, right? That’s—“   
  
Carver felt a surge of triumph at the real emotion on Felix’s face. It was the second time since arriving in Tevinter that he saw anything more than polite indifference from Felix. His cool mask was gone, replaced by flushed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows. It was the angry counterpoint to the desire Carver so clearly remembered, and as his brain overlaid the memory of Felix’s orgasm face on the real Felix’s anger.  
  
“And you think Rilienus is a good choice for your no-strings-attached fling? He’s a snake, Carver, and that’s just like you, throwing yourself at someone you know _nothing_ about just for a pretty face—“  
  
Carver clenched his fists to keep from throttling Felix. “You bloody hypocrite. So you’re allowed to have someone and be happy and in love, but I can’t? I’m just supposed to stay alone and pining so that you can feel all your guilt over leaving me hanging? Is that it?”  
  
“No, Carver, that’s not—“  
  
“Then what is it? Why stay with someone you don’t love, or even want, just to keep up appearances? I don’t understand you Tevinters.”   
  
“It’s about more than just me. I have responsibilities, to myself, to my family, to Livia now. I couldn’t just walk away from all that and leave them hanging!”  
  
“But leaving me hanging was no big deal, is that it?” Carver heard his voice rising, managed to keep from shouting but only by a hair. “Just following your father blindly like that, you’re a coward. You’ve never taken charge of your own life, you’ve let everyone make your decisions for you. Getting engaged, staying in school without finding a real career, planning to take your father’s seat, none of it was your choice. You’ve let everyone around you make your decisions and now that you don’t like it, you’re taking it out on me.”  
  
Felix’s brow came down low over his eyes, and he stared at a point just to the left of Carver’s shoulder. “What would you propose, Carver? Would you want me to move to Ferelden with you, find a job I’m overqualified for, live happily ever after in loving poverty? Or would you prefer moving here to Tevinter, to feel all the scorn of my colleagues and peers because you happened to be born to a family without the glorious lineage? I’d lose all standing in my field and we’d be ostracized from society, and what would we have then? Does that sound better?”  
  
 _Yes_ , Carver wanted to scream. _As long as we’re together, anything_.  
  
“You don’t know what it’s like. Everything my parents sacrificed for me, everything they’ve done to protect me and my shortcomings, and you want me to throw that back in their face?”   
  
 “That’s not what I’m saying! I’m saying that you don’t need to sacrifice yourself, who you are and what you want in life, to try and live up to some ideal that’s unreachable. From what I’ve seen of your father, he’ll still love you, no matter what. They put so much on the line for you, they took out your grandfather to protect you! Don’t use him as an excuse.”  
  
Felix’s lips thinned. “My father will love me no matter what, that’s true. He’d forgive me for breaking the engagement, but no one else would. Livia… her parents will never speak to me again, I may even lose my father his seat in the Magisterium. I can’t risk all that, not even…” He looked away, and Carver heard the words like a punch in the gut. _Not even for you_.   
  
Carver clenched his fists. “Fine. Whatever.”   
  
The mask returned, ice cold and hard as stone. “You were fun, Carver. You made an otherwise dull weekend entertaining, but it was never more than that. I’m sorry if you gave our fling more importance than it actually had, if you thought we could actually be something. You’re just not that important to me, and I could never risk my standing for you.”  
  
Carver nodded woodenly. He’d expected that, but anticipation did nothing to lance the wound.   
  
“What would I have left? No name, no money, no standing. Just—“  
  
“I get it!” Carver’s shout echoed through the quiet room, leaving them both in silence save for the muffled music coming in through the window. He covered his face with both hands, scrubbed them down through his beard and tried to center himself.   
  
Felix took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, before turning to face Carver. His throat worked as he swallowed, and determination visibly ran through him. He linked his hands together behind his back and gazed somewhere above Carver’s left shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
That wasn’t what he had expected. Carver clenched his jaw to keep from interrupting as Felix continued.  
  
“I didn’t mean all that. The truth is, I shouldn’t have lied to you at Bethany’s wedding. I should have talked to you about my feelings and what we were doing, back then and this weekend. I’ve struggled with watching you move on, when I’m stuck in the same place I was six months ago, a year ago, three years ago. My life hasn’t changed and when I met you, I wanted it to.  
  
“You made me feel like someone new, like anything was possible, and as much as I wanted that, I wanted safety and comfort just as much. I thought being content was the same thing as being happy.” Felix finally looked up to meet Carver’s eyes. “I don’t think that anymore.”  
  
Carver kept his breathing even and slow, tried to ignore his heartbeat picking up at the implication. “So what does that mean?” The solemn determination on Felix’s face made something lift in his belly, but Carver pushed it down.   
  
“The way you looked at me…” Felix’s eyes went distant, focusing on something in his memory. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone know your business before you even meet them. When I met anyone new in Tevinter, they knew my father, or my mother, or Livia’s family, so I was always restricted from what I could do or who I could speak to. You… you didn’t know me. You didn’t have these expectations of me, except what I agreed to. You didn’t write me off immediately because of my engagement, and it was a nice feeling. To have someone interested in me not because of my money or status, or the thrill of stealing an altus from their perfect life, but… You liked me for me. And I ruined it.” His voice cracked on the last words, his face crumpled.  
  
“Fee, you didn’t ruin it, you just…”  
  
Felix took a breath and composed himself. His gaze met Carver’s and Carver couldn’t breathe. “No, I did. I lied, and kept important information from you, and acted like a jerk for the last few days. I just didn’t know how to talk to you, and that’s all I wanted to do. I thought if I kept my distance, I would be able to shut off my feelings and pretend they weren’t there. That… didn’t work.”  
  
Carver nodded. He’d tried the same thing, and he knew how fruitless it was.   
  
“My engagement is off.” Felix looked up at him from beneath dark eyelashes, gauging his reaction.  
  
Carver tried to be surprised. “What? Why?”  
  
Felix narrowed his eyes, and the corner of his mouth rose. “Livia found someone else, apparently. A dashing Fereldan who swept her off her feet. She was smart enough not to let him go, or to sacrifice herself for a marriage that would bring neither of us satisfaction.”  
  
Carver paused, unable to figure out how Felix felt about it. Carver didn’t want to show glee, because that was a dick move, but he also couldn’t pretend he was too sorry about it. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted on his feet. “I’m sorry, Felix. That must hurt.”  
  
Felix tilted his head. “A bit. Not as much as I expected, however. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as leaving you.”  
  
Carver’s belly clenched, the breath punched out of his chest. “Oh?”   
  
“Carver…” Felix’s throat worked as he swallowed, and his eyes searched Carver’s face. “I love you.”  
  
He stilled, a cold wave crashing over him. “You what?”  
  
“I’ve loved you since I saw you walk Bethany down the aisle, but I wasn’t ready. I hate that it came to this, to ignoring you and fighting and—“ his cheeks darkened as Carver thought about the night before in the library, “and telling you you’re not worth it. I was trying to convince myself, because I can’t stop thinking about you.”  
  
“Is that so?” Carver folded his arms across his chest again, and insecurity creased Felix’s brow.  
  
“It is.”  
  
Carver licked his lips. “So now, after everything, only after Livia dumped you, can you come to me and say _I love you_? You choose me after your Plan A falls apart, is that it?”  
  
“What? Carver, that’s not—“  
  
Carver sliced a hand through the air between them. “No, that’s exactly what this is. You could have said that before, you could have broken up with Livia in the first place. But you didn’t. You chose her. So what am I supposed to do with that?”  
  
Felix’s face fell, despair in every line of his body. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have done anything if Livia didn’t have the courage to go after what she wants.” He paused, staring anywhere but at Carver. “I didn’t understand that it’s not the end of the world. That my friends will still love me if I live outside the narrow parameters set up by society. I know it’s not fair to you, to only come back to you once my plans fell apart. I’m a coward. That’s all there is to it.” He lifted his eyes and they glimmered wetly in the dim light. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Carver didn’t feel any better. He felt a hollow ache, where he should have felt elated over Felix’s confession, it was tainted. He was destined to be always second best.   
  
“Carver, please don’t—“   
  
“No. I deserve better than this. I am good enough and I don’t need _you_ to choose me to prove it.” Carver took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising tide of rage within him. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t lie to you. I was never with Peaches, not really, and I’ll never make my mother happy. I’ve given up on that.   
  
“But you…” Carver exhaled again. “I didn’t give up on you. I wanted to, and I tried going on dates and hookups. None of it worked. I haven’t felt anything like when we were together. And to be second best again and again—“   
  
Felix nodded. “You’re right. You deserve better than me. I had hoped…” He shook his head and glanced at the door. “I hope you find someone worthy of you, Carver. I won’t bother you again.”  
  
A lump formed in Carver’s throat, and he couldn’t speak. Felix dipped his head, took slow steps towards the door and Carver felt every inch of the distance like a fist slowly clenching around his heart. This was for the best, wasn’t it? Felix could choose whoever he wanted, and so could he. Carver didn’t turn to watch him walk away.  
  
The only problem was that he _wanted_ Felix. He wanted to listen to him talk about mathematics and his thesis, he wanted to see Felix in formalwear and pajamas and everything in between, he wanted to hold his hand and have it be _real_ , not pretending or playacting or hurting each other. Carver deserved to have someone who loved him, and he deserved to choose who he wanted — and if he chose to spend the rest of life with Felix, did the last year really matter?  
  
“Wait,” he croaked. The footsteps behind him stopped. His voice sounded wet and thick when he spoke. “I'm sorry too. Not for what I said but - I shouldn't have shouted at you. My temper still gets the best of me."  
  
Footsteps came back toward him, and Felix finally came into his line of sight. His stiff expression of trying to keep his composure was familiar to Carver after wearing it himself for the last four days, but it was better than the icy politeness that he grew to hate.   
  
"And - you weren't bothering me," Carver found himself smiling while holding back tears, "Even when it hurt I still wanted to see you,"  
  
Felix's mask slipped and then fell completely. His face crumpled and he covered his face with his hands. "I'm such a fool,” he gritted out.  
  
Carver resisted the pull to comfort him, to wrap his arms around Felix and tell him _it’s okay_. “I don’t— this doesn’t fix everything. I need you to choose me. Now, tomorrow, and a month from now when your peers push back against this. Is that— can you do that?”  
  
“Can I touch you?” Felix’s soft voice was closer now, and Carver nodded. Warm hands pressed against his cheeks. “You’re worth it. You’re worth everything. You’re so important to me, and I will always choose you.”  
  
Felix pressed their foreheads together, and Carver could tell he had boosted himself up on tip-toes. “You said some mean things, Carver, and they hurt. But you were right. Money and legacy can only get you so far, and they can’t keep you warm at night.”  
  
Carver’s belly twisted again. “I can’t give you what you want. Land or money, or rubies or pearls or whatever.”   
  
Felix’s brow furrowed. “Rubies or pearls? What on earth are you talking about?”   
  
Carver felt his cheeks burn. “Uh. Like in the play.” He had spent far too long thinking on the poetry that Leliana had quoted, and it had stayed with him for a reason he didn’t want to name before. Now, it was clear.  
  
When comprehension came to Felix, a smile broke out over his face. “Carver, did you pay no attention to the rest of the song?” Felix’s eyes softened and he brought one hand down from Carver’s cheek to lace their fingers together, squeezing to ground them.  
  
“ _He'd have given me laces rare, Dresses that glimmered with frosty sheen, Shining ribbons to wrap my hair, Horses to draw me, as fine as a queen_.” His dark eyes met Carver’s, and they held so much. “ _You- you'd only to whistle low, Gayly I followed wherever you led. I took you, and I let him go- Somebody ought to examine my head_!”  
  
Carver snorted. “Right they should. Follow me? That’ll set you up for disaster.”  
  
Felix shook his head and his smile sent a thrill through him. “It will be worth it.”  
  
Carver looked into his face and couldn’t help the pure joy that bubbled out of him in a giggle. “Maybe you are a fool," Carver said, affection and happy anticipation coloring his voice, "But you are _my_ fool."

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr! about carver hawke or felix alexius or other things too!! [@janeclawsten](http://janeclawsten.tumblr.com/)


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